It was a lover and his lass

s

csl

Presented to the
LIBRARY of the

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO

by

DR. J.K.W. FERGUSON

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME.

MARIAN SAX Madame Albane.si

THE INFINITE CAPACITY Cosmo Hamilton

THE GOD OF LOVE Justin Huntly McCarthy

MOONLIGHT Mary R. Mann

KITTY HOLDEN Adeline Sergeant

A QUESTION OF QUALITY Madame Albanesi

JANET Mrs. Oliphant

BEQUEATHED Beatrice Whitby

THE HOUSE OF INTRIGUE Percy White

THE SEVENTH DREAM "Rita"

THE WHITE HOUSE M. E. Braddon

A SOUL APART Adeline Sergeant

NEEDLES AND PINS Justin Huntly McCarthy
THE STRONGEST OF ALL THINGS Madame Albanesi
THE YOUNGEST MISS MOWBRAY Mrs. B M Croker

THE IDES OF MARCH Mrs. Baillie-Reynolds

t Author of " Thalassa," etc.)

A YOUNG MAN FROM THE COUNTRY Madame Albanesi

THE TURNSTILE OF NIGHT Mrs. C. N. Williamson

HER OWN PEOPLE Mrs. B. M. Crokfr

COLONEL DAVERON Percy White

THE ILLUSTRIOUS O'HAGAN Justin Huntly McCarthy

A MARCH IN THE RANKS Jessie Fothergill

THE CUCKOO IN THE NEST Mrs. Oliphant

DRUSILLA'S POINT OF VIEW Madame Albanesi

HURST AND BLACKETTS
yd. COPYRIGHT NOVELS

He bowed over it and kissed it before Lilias knew." p. 148.

IT WAS A LOVER
AND HIS LASS

Mrs. OLIPHANT

London :

Hurst and Blackett, Limited
Paternoster House, E.G.

/f - -

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER I

THERE stands in one of the northern counties of Scotland,
in the midst of a wild and wooded landscape, with the
background of a fine range of hills, and in the vicinity
of a noble trout-stream, a great palace, uninhabited and
unfinished. There it stands, white and splendid, raising
its turreted roofs, such a house as a prince might live in,
which would accommodate dozens of guests, and for
which scores of servants would be needful. But all naked,
vacant, and silent, the glassless windows like empty sockets
without eyes, the rooms all unfinished, grass growing
on the broad steps that lead up to the great barricaded
door, and weeds flourishing upon the approach.

At night, or when the evening glooms are falling, nothing
can be more startling than to stray into the presence of
this huge thing, which is not a habitation, and which
seems, all complete yet so incomplete, to have strayed into
regions quite uncongenial and out of sympathy with it,
where it stands as much out of its element as a stranded
boat.

But all the same there is nothing ghostly or terrible about
Murkley Castle. It involves no particular mystery of any
kind — nothing but the folly of a man who built a house
without counting Ihe cost, and who found himself without
means to complete, far less enjoy, the palace he had con-
structed. Not the less is it a strange feature in the land-
scape, and it would be still stranger if popular superstition
did not see sights and hear sounds in it of nights, for which
the wiser persons in the country declared they could not
account, though of course they did not believe in any-
thing supernatural. This was the reason given by the
driver of the gig from the " George " at Kilmorley for the

2 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

round he wanted to make on a certain June night in the
lingering daylight, as he conducted the gentleman reckoned
as No. 5 in the books at the " George " to Murkley village,
where this ill-advised person, not knowing when he was
well off, as the " George " was of opinion, meant to establish
himself at the village inn, which was no better than a
public-house.

" It's no from ony superstition," the driver said. " I'm
no a man, I hope, to be feared for ghosts ; I'm mair feared
for flesh and blood. I've a good watch in my pocket, and
life's sweet, and if it's tramps, as is maist likely, that
have a howff in the auld castle, and mak' a' thae noises
to frichten the countryside, the mair reason, say I, to
gi'e the auld castle a wide berth."

" But, man alive ! " cried the stranger, " you're not afraid
of ghosts in broad daylight."

" I'm no speaking about ghosts — and ye ca' this braid
daylicht ! It's just the eeriest licht I ever saw. Do you
ken what o'clock it is ? Nine o'clock at nicht, and ye can
see as plain as if it was nine in the morning. I come from
the South mysel', and I'm no used to it. Nor it's no canny
either. It's no the sun, it's no the moon ; what is it ?
Just the kind of time, in my opinion, that ye might see
ony thing — even if it wasna there "

This lucid description gave our traveller great pleasure.

" I had not thought of that," he said, " but it is quite
true. Here is a half-crown for you, if you will drive by
Murkley — is it Murkley }rou said ? "

" You kent a' about Murkley when you made up your
mind to make your habitation there," said Duncan, with
a glance of suspicion. " If you ken the village, ye maun
ken the castle. They're ower proud to have such a ferly
near them, thae ignorant folk."

" You don't mean to win the half-crown," said the
other, with a good-humoured laugh.

Duncan, who had slackened his pace when the offer was
made, and evidently, notwithstanding his ungracious
remark, contemplated turning, which was not so easy in the
narrow road, here suddenly jerked his mare round with an
impatience which almost brought her on her hind quarters.
" It's of nae consequence to me," he said.

But this clearly meant not the half-crown, but the change

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 3

of route. They went in through a gate, to which a
castellated lodge had been attached, but the place was
empty, like the castle itself. A slight uncertainty of
light, like a film in the air, began to gather as they came
in sight of the house, not darkening so much as confusing
the silvery clearness of the sky and crystalline air. This
was all new to the stranger. He had never been out in
such an unearthly, long-continued day. It was like fairy-
land, or dreamland, he could not tell which. It seemed to
him the very poetry of the North, the sentiment — far less
glowing and passionate, yet, at the same time, less matter
of fact than that to which he was accustomed — of the
visionary land into which he had come. He did not know
Scotland, nor yet England, though nobody could more
pride himself on the quality of an Englishman. It was
like nothing he had ever read of. And into this strange,
unearthly light suddenly arose the great white bulk of the
palace, with its rows upon rows of hollow eyes looking out
into apace. Lewis Grantley started, in spite of himself,
at the sight, and, what was more remarkable, the mare
started too, and required all the efforts of her driver to
hold her in.

" I tellt ye ! " Duncan said, with a smothered oath
directed at the horse or his companion, it would be diffi-
cult to say which. He did not himself so much as look
at the great house, giving his entire attention to the mare,
whom he held in with all his might, with a lowering counte-
nance and every sign of unwilling submission, when Grantley
bid him draw up in front of the castle. Two or three
minutes afterwards, the stranger waved his hand ; and
the animal darted on like an arrow from a bow. She
scarcely drew breath, flashing along through the avenue at
full speed, till they reached the further gate, which was
opened for them by a respectable woman, neat and trim,
as one under the eye of her master. Lewis could only
perceive among the trees the small tourelles of an old house
as they darted out of the gate.

" I'll no get her soothered down till she's in her ain
stable," Duncan said. " Your half-a-crown's hard won.
She'll just pu' my hands off on the road hame, with her
stable at the hinder end, and this pawnic in her. And
now ye have seen it are you muckle the better for it ?

T*

4 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

That's what I aye ask when folk risk their necks for the
pleasure of their een." ,

" My good fellow," said Lewis, " are all Scotchmen, I
would like to know, as uncivil as you ? "

A spark of humour kindled in Duncan's eyes.

" No — no a'," he said, with a somewhat perplexing con-
fusion of vowels, and burst into a sudden laugh. " And
even me, my bark's worse than my bite," he added, with
an amused look. Then, after a pause, " You're a gentle-
man that can tak' a joke. I like that sort. The English
are maistly awfu' serious. They just glower at ye. You've
maybe been in this countryside before ? "

" Never before. I have never been in Scotland before,
nor in England either, for that matter," said the young
man.

" Lord sake ! " cried Duncan, " and where may ye belong
to, when you are at hame ? "

But the stranger did not carry his complacency so far as
this. He said, somewhat abruptly :

" Do you know anything about the family to whom that
place belongs ? "

" Do I ken ony thing about It's weel seen you've

no acquaintance with this countryside," said Duncan.
" What should a person ken about if no the Murrays ?
Was it the Murrays ye were meaning ? I ken as much about
them as ony man, whaever the other may be. My sister
cam' frae Moffatt with them — that's my caulf-ground —
and my little Bessy is in the kitchen, and coming on grand.
I can tell you everything about them, if that's what you
want."

" Oh, not so much as that," said Grantley ; " I am not so
curious. Do they intend to finish the Murkley Castle ? "
he asked.

" Finish it ! Oh, man, but it's little you ken. I'll
tell ye the haill story, if you like. You see there was old
Sir Patrick. He was the man that biggit yon nmckle
castle ; but his siller failed, and he took a disgust at it ;
then he gaed abroad, and things turned, and he got his
money back. But do ye think he was the man to do like
other folk, to let it go to them that had a right ? Na, na,
ye're out of your reckoning. He was an auld fool — him
that had a son, and grandchildren, and a' that — what must

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 5

he do but take up with some urchin he picked out of the
streets, and pet it, and make of it, and set it up for a
gentleman, and leave all his siller to that."

Lewis Grantley had started again at this description.
He said, hastily :

"How do you know that it was out of the streets ?

How do you know " and then he stopped short, and

laughed. " Tell the story, my good fellow, your own
way."

" I'll do that," said Duncan, who despised the per-
mission. " Out o' the streets or no out o' the streets, it
was some adventurer-lad that took the fancy o' the auld
man. True flesh and blood will not aye make itself over
agreeable, and the short and the long is that he left all his
siller to the young fellow, that was not a drap's blood to
him, and left the muckle castle and the little castle and
twa-three auld acres mortgaged to their full valley to his
son. He couldn't help that, that was the bit that was
settled, and that he couldn't will away."

The young man listened with great interest, with now
and then a movement of surprise. He did not speak at
first ; then he said, with a long breath :

" That was surely a very strange thing to do."

"Ay was it — an awfu' strange thing — but Sir Patrick was
aye what's ca'ed an eccentric, and ye never could tell what
he wouldna do. That's Murkley down yonder, on the
water-side. Ye'll be a keen fisher, I'm thinking, to think
o' living there."

" And the son ? " said the young man. " I suppose he
had behaved badly to his father. It could not be for
nothing that he was disinherited. You people who know
everything, I suppose you know the cause too."

" The general ? " said Duncan. " Well, he wasna a
saint ; and when an auld man lives twice as long as is
expected, and his son is as auld as himself, there's little
thought of obedience to him then, ye may weel suppose.
The general had a way of pleasing himself. He married a
lady that was thought a grand match, and she turned out
to have very little ; and syne when she was dead he
married anither that had nothing ava, and I suppose he
never asked Sir Patrick's consent. If it was that, or if it
was something else, how can I tell ? But you'll no find

it

6 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

many men to beat the general. They're a' very proud of
him in this countryside."

" I thought he was dead," said the young man, hurriedly.

" Oh, ay, he's deed : and now it's the misses that has it.
I have the maist interest in them, for, as I tellt ye — but
ye were paying no attention — Moffatt, where their little
bit place is, is my caulf -ground. They're living in the
auld castle, just by the gate we came through. Lord,
if he had been content with the auld castle, it would have
been better for them a' this day. Yon's the ' Murkley
Arms,' and Adam at the door. Ye maun be an awfu' keen
fisher, sir, as I was saying, to leave a grand house like the
' George ' for a country public, for it's no to call an inn —
just a public, and no more. Here, Adam, here's a gentle-
man I've brought you ; you'll have to give me a good dram
for handsel, and him your best room, and as many trout
as he can set his face to. He deserves it for coming here."

The person thus addressed was a tall man, with a red
beard, revealing only about a quarter of a countenance, who
stood smoking and leaning against the doorway of the
" Murkley Arms." He looked up, but somewhat languidly,
at the appeal, and said :

" Ay, Duncan, is that you ? " with the greatest composure
without deranging himself. Thereupon Duncan jumped
down, throwing the reins on the mare's neck, who was much
subdued by her rapid progress, and besides had the habit
of standing still before the door of a " public."

Long Adam took no notice of the gentleman, but he put
his hand to his mouth and called " Jennit ! " in a sort
of soft bellow, thunderous and rolling into the air like
a distant explosion. In a minute more quick steps came
pattering along the brick-paved passage.

" What's it noo ? " said a brisk voice. " A gentleman.
Losh me ! what am I to do with a gentleman ? — no a thing
in the house, and the curtains aff a' the beds. I think
ye're crackit, Duncan Davidson, to bring a gentleman to
me."

" He's crackit himself to want to come, but I have nae
wyte o't," said Duncan. " Would you have had me tak'
him to Luckie Todd's ? They'll take him in, and welcome
there."

" No, I wouldna be so illwilly as that," said the woman,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 7

with a laugh : and she advanced and looked curiously at
the neat portmanteau and dressing-bag, which no one
had attempted to take down from the dog-cart.

" I am not hard to please," said Grantley, with the little
accent which Duncan had taken for " high English."

Janet, better informed, made a little pause, and looked
at her visitor again. The lingering light had got more and
more confused, though it was nothing like dark. Janet's
idea of " a foreigner," which was not nattering, was that
of a dark-bearded, cloak-enveloped conspirator. The
light, youthful figure, and smooth face of the new arrival
did not intimidate her. She took down the bag briskly
from the dog-cart, and bid her husband give himself a
shake and see if he had spirit enough to bring in the
gentleman's portmanteau ; then at last, after so many
delays, beckoned to him to follow her, and led the way
upstairs.

CHAPTER II

THE village of Murkley next morning bore an aspect wonder-
fully different from that of the enchanted dreamland of
the previous night. In that wonderful light, everything
had been softened and beautified — a sort of living romance
was in the air; the evening softness and the strange
magic of the lingering light had given a charm to every-
thing. When Lewis Grantley looked out next morning, the
prospect was not so idyllic. The " Murkley Arms " was
in the centre of the village, where the street widened
into a sort of place by no means unlike that of a French
country town of small dimensions. The little stone houses,
with the blue-slated roofs, had a look of comfort. It was
not half so pretty, but it was a great deal more well-off
than many villages the stranger knew, and he recognized
the difference.

The room from which Lewis Grantley made these observa-
tions was immediately above the front-door. It was an
old-fashioned parlour, with a red and green carpet on the
floor, a red and blue cover on the table, furniture of
mahogany and black haircloth, and a large sideboard like

8 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

a catafalque. A slight mustiness, as of a place long shut
up, was in the air, but this was counteracted by a huge
bouquet of hawthorn thrust into a large jug which stood
upon the sideboard. He made an excellent breakfast ;
and everything was so fresh and new to him, that to look
out of the window was enough to amuse him, and the
absence of a newspaper, and of various other accompani-
ments of breakfast in town, did not disturb his comfort in
the least. Grantley did not know anything about town
indeed, and had no regrets when he found himself in the
silent atmosphere of this strange little place. He had a
very serious purpose in coming, but apart from that it
was pleasant enough to see new sights, and breathe an air
to which he was unaccustomed.

His upbringing had been of a curious kind. He was
the son of English parents, born (let us say for the sake
of brevity, and according to the fashion of our county)
" abroad/' which may, of course, be anywhere, from one
side of the world to the other : but was, in the present
case, on the European continent, and amidst the highest
civilization. He had grown up there rather in the subjection
and quiescence of a French boy during his school-time,
than in the freedom of an English one, and at seventeen
had been left orphaned and penniless amid people who
were very kind to him, but who did not know what to do
with the desolate boy. It was at this crisis, in his mourning
clothes, his eyes dim with watching and weeping, that he
attracted the attention of a desolate old Englishman,
wandering vaguely about the world, as it seemed, with
nothing to interest or attract him. It is not necessary to
be good in order to be kind, and old Sir Patrick Murray,
though he had cast off his own family, and cared nothing
for his flesh and blood, was not without a capacity of love
in him, and was as desolate in his old age as any orphan
could be in his youth. He was appealed to, as being an
Englishman, in favour of the child of the English pair who
were dead. They were not of exalted condition ; the
father was a clerk in the Vice-Consul's office, the mother had
come " abroad " as a nursery governess, no more. Their
child spoke English badly, and though he was furious in
defence of his nationality, knew nothing about the habits
of his race, and had never been in England in his life.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 9

Sir Patrick took him as he might have taken a puppy in
the same desolate circumstances. The lad was about
his house for a month or two, reading for him, arranging
his papers, fulfilling offices which were only " not menial,"
as the advertisements say. He was browner than an
English lad, and more domestic, with no pressure upon
him of games to be played or athletic duties to fulfil, and
perhaps more soft in his manner, with warmer demon-
strations of gratitude and youthful enthusiasm for his
benefactor than an English youth could have shown. By
degrees he got into the old man's heart. They left the
place of young Grantley's birth, and thus cut all the ties
he had of human association. There were some relatives at
home he had never seen, and one of them had written to
say that his sister's son should not want while he had
anything, and that the boy " of course " must come to
him ; but none of the others took any notice, and even
this open-hearted person was evidently very glad and
relieved in no small degree when he was informed that
a rich old Englishman had taken his nephew up.

" I hope you will do nothing to forfeit his kindness,'4
this uncle wrote, " for, though you should have come to
us and welcome had you been destitute, we are poor
people, and it is far better that you should have to depend
on yourself."

This was all Lewis had in the world out of old Sir Patrick's
favour, but that favour was bestowed upon him all the
more liberally that he had nobody, just as the old man
declared he had nobody, to care for him.

They travelled about everywhere, the old man and the
young one, the tie between them growing closer every
day. When Sir Patrick got too weak to travel, Lewis
nursed and served him like the most devoted of sons. It
was only when a letter came with prodigious black borders,
about a year before Sir Patrick's death, announcing that
of General Murray, that the young fellow became aware
that his old friend had a son. But except that a dinner-
party was put off, and a hatband put on, no other notice
was taken of the loss, and it faded out of the favourite's
mind as a matter of no importance either to himself or
any one else. When Sir Patrick died, Lewis mourned as
sincerely as ever child mourned a parent, and was as much

io IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

startled to find himself the master of a large fortune, left
to him by this second father, as if he had been seventeen
instead of twenty- five ; for all this time, eight long years,
had passed since his adoption by the kind old man to
whose service he had devoted himself with an insouciance
more characteristic of the country of his birth than of the
race to which he belonged.

During Sir Patrick's life he had received an allowance,
wliich was enough for his wants, and he had scarcely begun
to awaken out of his grief to the consciousness that he must
do something else for his living when the extraordinary
intimation was made to him that he was a rich man.

But it overwhelmed the young man when he was told
of all he had gained by the death of his old friend. He
had not even known how rich Sir Patrick was. His income
might have ended with him for anything Lewis knew ;
he had never inquired what his means were. When this
astounding news suddenly burst upon him, he was so
much touched and overwhelmed by so great a token of the
old man's love that no other circumstances had much weight
with him. But by-and-bye he began to inquire and
understand. The will was a very curious will. It began
by enumerating the property which was settled and out
of his power by his son's marriage settlement, and which
would naturally go to his son's daughter ; to other
daughters mentioned as the elder and the second, but
without names, which probably had been forgotten, he
left each a sum of money, two thousand pounds, the residue
being entirely for " the use and benefit of my beloved
young friend, Lewis Grantley, wiio has been a true son
to my old age."-

This will, as we have said, came upon Lewis like a
thunderbolt. That he himself should suddenly be turned
into a rich man was wonderful enough, but that his old
friend had relatives so near was still more wonderful.
After the first shock of sensation, which was naturally
excited by his own personal share of the revelation, the
mind of the heir turned with a vague curiosity to those
unknown personages. It did not for a long time occur to
Lewis that he had in any way wronged them ; indeed,
it is very doubtful whether it would ever have done so,
had not the suggestion been thrown into his mind by the

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS n

lawyer who had the management of Sir Patrick's affairs.
When the agent and the heir met some time after the old
man's death, the former congratulated his client signifi-
cantly that " the family " did not seem to have any idea
of disputing the will.

"The family — disputing the will!" Lewis said, with
astonishment. He was bewildered by the suggestion.
The agent had come from Scotland on purpose to give
the young man full information concerning his
fortune.

" They might, you know, have pleaded undue influence,
or even that Sir Patrick was old, and unfit to judge for
himself : that he had been bullied into it, or coaxed
into it.'1

" Bullied into it — or coaxed into it ! "- Lewis echoed the
words in utter amazement and dismay, with that slightest
touch of foreignness in his accent which in the circum-
stances made the lawyer's blood boil, for he was an old
family lawyer, who had managed the Murray property for
generations, and his indignation was unspeakable, as may
be supposed.

"Just so," he said coldly. " I was consulted on the
subject ; but I could only say there was no evidence —
nothing that had come under my observation ; so you need
not fear any opposition on that point.'4

" But this is very mysterious," said Lewis. " Why
should they entertain such an opinion of me ? "

He asked the question in all innocence, fixing his eyes
upon the lawyer's face ; and Mjr. Allenerly, though so
prejudiced, could not help being moved by this entirely
straightforward regard.

" You see," he said, a little abashed, " they know nothing
about you."

" That is true enough," said Lewis, reassured.

" They know nothing about you ; all that they know
is, that somebody has stolen into their grandfather's
regard, and got all their, money — somebody that has
nothing to do with the family. That's rather a bitter pill,
for they're not rich. You might be an angel from heaven,
and yet as you are not a Murray the family would feel it ;
but you may make yourself easy on the subject. There
will be no opposition.4*

12 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

The insinuation and the re-assurance were alike astonish-
ing to Lewis.

" If there is any ground on which to oppose it, I should
wish that there should be opposition. I did not want Sir
Patrick's money. I never thought of it — never knew
he had any."

" You couldn't suppose," said Mr. Allenerly, with some
disdain, " that all this was kept up on nothing ? "

They were in Sir Patrick's rooms, where the young man
had remained.

" That is true. No, surely it could not be kept up
without money — and there was plenty of money — of
course, I must have been aware of that ; but I never
thought of it — not for myself."

The lawyer was very prejudiced and extremely unwilling
to allow himself to say anything, but after a little hesitation
he burst forth, as if the confession had been forced from
him, " I believe that."

" Then why should they think so badly of me ? " Lewis
said. But he grew very grave from that time forth, a
mood which suited well enough with his mourning. An
intention formed itself in his mind almost immediately,
which he did not at once carry out for a number of petty
reasons each entirely unimportant in itself, but mounting
up together into a certain reasonableness.

At last, however, but not till Sir Patrick had been dead
nearly a year, he set off for Scotland to carry out his
intention. It was but three days now since he had crossed
the sea, and here he was in Murkley, in the native place of
his benefactor, on the very estate which had been his,
near the house in which he was born. All this had pro-
duced a great effect upon the young man, and so did the
conversation with Duncan and the new view of himself
and his own conduct suggested by that worthy. Passing
gusts of anger and uneasiness had crossed his mind, which
were neutralized indeed by the amusing circumstances of
his arrival and the novelty of the scene around. But when
he had found himself alone that first evening, and the outer
world shut out, it could not be denied that the usual peace
of his mind was much disturbed. He no longer felt sure of
himself, and that tranquil consciousness of having done
and of meaning to do his best, which gave serenity to his

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 13

character, failed him almost for the first time in his life.
It was a painful experience to go through, but there was a
satisfaction in the thought that he was now on the spot at
Isast, and in the way of ascertaining exactly what the
state of the matter was, and how he could best amend it,
or if amendment was possible.

This cheering thought and the influence of the morning
restored his satisfaction in the external world, and his
hopes for what was before him, and the sense of being
surrounded with novel circumstances in a new country
with everything to learn and to enjoy, restored his spirits.
One thing gave him a momentary annoyance, which,
however, ended soon in the half mischievous, boyish
pleasure which he felt in the expedient he thought of to*
meet it. The annoyance was his sudden recollection that
the name of Lewis Grantley was no doubt well known at
Murkley Castle. To allow himself to be known as that
detested personage would baffle him in all his intentions.
The way of eluding this was a sufficiently simple one, that
of dropping his own name. Accordingly he took the first
step in conciliating the family by doing the thing of all
others at which they were most indignant — assuming the
name of Murray, as Sir Patrick had wished. Sir Patrick
had expressed a wish on the subject, but it was not men-
tioned in the will, nor was there any such stipulation made.
And Mr. Allenerly had thought it inexpedient. Therefore
it had been understood that Grantley he should continue
to be. The best disguise he could assume, he felt, was
to take the name which would be supposed to be the most
unlikely he could hit upon, and yet to which he had a
certain right. The idea of doing so amused while it annoyed
him. Sir Patrick would have liked it. It would have
been a pleasure to the old man ; and to himself it would
be a shield in this country of the Murrays where every
third person to be met with bore the name. If at the
tsame time a sense of deception and unreality crossed the
young man's mind, he put it away as a piece of folly. He
had nothing but a good meaning in this visit to his ad-
versary's country, to the neighbourhood of the people
whom he had wronged without knowing it, most innocently
because altogether unawares.

14 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER III

" YE'LL be for the fusliin', sir ? Adam, that's my man,
will give ye a' the information. He's fell at the saumon ;
and muckle need to be fell at something,"- added Janet ;
" for a mair fusionless man about a house doesna exist*
He's no made for an innkeeper. I'm aye telling him that ;
but I might just as weel keep my breath for ither purposes.
It never does him ony good.11

" It is all the more to your credit, Mrs. "-

" Oh, you needna fash your head about the mistress.
I've aye been Janet, and Janet I'll be to the end o' the
chapter. And, if everything shouldna be just as you
wish, it'll be real kind to name it, Mr. Murray. So you're
Murray, too ? there are a hantle Murrays hereabout.
Ye'll be of the Athol family, or "-

" I have lived abroad all my life,11 said Lewis, " and
I have been an orphan since I was very young — so that I
know very little about my relations.11

He felt very self-conscious as he made this little expla-
nation, and thought it so awkward that he must be found
out, but Janet was entirely unsuspicious, and accepted it
as a matter of course.

" Eh, that's an awfu' pity,'1 she said, sympathetically ;
then added, " If ye've been abroad so lang as that, ye'll
maybe have met with auld Sir Patrick about the world.
That's the grandfather of our misses here — a real grand-
looking auld gentleman as ever I set eyes on — but, I'm
feared, sir, no sae good as he looked. He's been aye
abroad sin ever I mind, and the general and him didna
gree ; and he has left every penny of his siller that he
could meddle with, away frae his family. It's an awfu1
hard case/1 Janet said.

" I have heard something of that : and I think — I
have met Sir Patrick.'-1

" I wonder,'1 said Janet, " if ye've seen the lad that
did a' the mischief ? — a young Frenchman or foreigner he
was — that creepit into the auld gentleman's heart, and

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 15

turned him against his ain flesh and- blood. I wouldna
have that man's conscience for a' the siller."

" I've seen," said Lewis, colouring in spite of himself,
" a young man — to whom Sir Patrick had been very kind
— and who loved him as if he had been his father. They
were like father and son for years. I don't think he knew
anything about the money."

" Eh, that's mair nor I can believe," said Janet, shaking
her head. " What was a' that for, if he kent nothing
about the money ? I canna believe that."

" Do you think foreigners, as you call them, are such
canaille — I mean, such brutes and dogs "

" I ken very well what canailye means,'* said Janet.
"Well, I wouldna be uncharitable. There's maybe some
that are mair high-minded, but the most of them, you'll
allow, sir, are just for what they can get — 'deed the English
are maistly the same, in my opinion ; — and twa- three
Scots, too, for that matter," she added, with a laugh.

" You are entirely wrong in that," said Lewis, with some
heat. " Don't you know, in other places, it is the Scotch
who are said to be so interested and greedy — always
grasping at advantage, always thinking what is to pay."

" Weel," said Janet, " that just shows what I'm saying,
how little we ken about our neighbours. Murkley folk
canna bide the Braehead, and Braehead has aye an ill
word conter Murkley. That's just the way o' the world.
Me that's a philosopher's wife, if I'm no philosophical
mysel' "

'" Are you a philosopher's wife ? " said Lewis, restored
to good-humour, as she probably meant he should be,
by this statemnet.

" Oh, sir, do you no ken that ? That shows you're
little acquaint with this countryside," said Janet. " And
yonder he is, just starting for the water, and if I was a
fine young gentleman like you, instead of 'biding in the
house this fine morning, I would just be aff to the water
too, with Adam. Ye'll find him a diverting companion,
sir, though it's maybe no me that should say it. He has
a great deal to say for himself when he is in the humour.
Hi ! " she said, raising her voice, and tapping loudly
on the window, " here's the gentleman coming with you,
Adam.'*

16 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

This way of getting him out of the house amused Lewis
greatly. He did not resist it, indeed the sun was shining
so brightly, yet the air was so cool and sweet, a combination
little known to the stranger, that he had already felt
his blcod frisking in his veins. Adam was going leisurely
along, with his basket slung around him, and a great
machinery of rods and lines over his shoulder. He
scarcely paused to let Lewis come up with him, and all he
said by way of salutation was, " Ye've nae rod," said
somewhat sulkily, Lewis thought, out of the depths of his
beard and his chest. And it cannot be said that the
description of Janet was very closely fulfilled. Adam was
much intent upon his work. If he could be " diverting "
when he was in the humour, he was not in the humour to-day.

He led the way down the riverside with scarcely a word,
and crossing the unsheltered meadow which lay along the
bank, with only a few trees on the edge, soon got within
the shelter of the woods.

He came to a pause upon a green bank, a little opening
between the trees opposite the great cliff y/hich reared
itself like a great fortification out of the water. The
village, the bit of level meadow, the stillness and serene
air of comfort seemed to have passed away in a moment,
to give place to a mountain torrent, the dark water frown-
ing and leaping against the rocks. Adam took some time
to arrange all his paraphernalia, to fit his rod, and arrange
his bait, during which time he did not deign to address
a word to his companion, who watched him with curiosity,
but, unfortunately, with a curiosity which was that of
ignorance. After he had asked several questions which
made this very distinct, the philosopher at last turned
round upon him with a sort of slow defiance.

" You're no a fisher," he said. " What will havebrocht
ye here ? "

This was to Adam the most simple and natural of ques-
tions ; but it somewhat disturbed Lewis, who was conscious
of intentions not perfectly straightforward. Necessity,
which is the best quickener of wit, came to his aid. He
bethought himself of a little sketch-book he had in his
pocket, and drew that out.

" There are other things than fishing to bring one into a
beautiful country," he said.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 17

" Oh, ay," said Adam, " if "you're o' the airtist class — "
Perhaps there was a shade of contempt in his tone. But,
if so, he changed it quickly, with a respect for his com-
panion's feelings, which was the height of politeness.
''There's mony comes this way, but to my mind they
should a' gang a wee further. We're naething in com-
parison with the real Highlands."

When Adam's creel was full they went back, but by a
round which brought them in sight of the gate which Lewis
remembered having passed through on the previous night ;
the turrets of the old house showed over the trees, and
the young man looked at them with a quickened beating
of his heart. He was standing still gazing at the old
house when he suddenly heard voices behind him, kind
salutations to Adam, to which the fisherman replied with
some cordiality. Lewis turned round quickly, for the
voices were feminine and refined, though they had a whiff
of accent to which he was as yet unaccustomed. It was
a group of three ladies who had paused to speak to Adam,
and were looking with interest at his fish. They were
all in black dresses, standing out in the midst of the sun-
shine, three slim, clear-marked figures. The furthest
from him was shorter than the others, and wore a veil
which partially concealed her face ; the two who were
talking were evidently sisters and of ripe years. They
talked both together, one voice overlapping the other.

" What fine fish you have got, Adam ! " " And what
a creelful ! you've been lucky to-day." " If Janet can
spare us a couple, the cook will be very thankful." " Dear
me, that will be pleasant if Janet can spare us a couple,"
they said.

After a few more questions they passed on, nodding and
waving their hands. " Come, Lilias," they called both
together, looking back to the third, who said nothing but
" Good day, Adam," in a younger, softer voice.

Lewis stood aside to let them pass, and took off his hat.
It was evidently a surprise to the ladies to see the stranger
stand uncovered as they passed. They looked at him
keenly, and made some half audible comments to each
other. " Who will that be now, Jean ? " "It will be
some English lad for the fishing, Margaret," Lewis heard,
and laughed to himself.

i8 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" Are those village people ? " Lewis said.

" Eh ? What was that you were saying ? "

" Are those two ladies — 'Village people ? I mean do
they live hereabout ? "

Adam turned slowly half round upon him. His large and
somewhat hazy blue eyes uprose from between the bush
of his shaggy eyebrows and the redness of his beard, and
contemplated the young man curiously.

" Yon's — the misses at the castle," Adam said.

" The misses ? " Still Lewis did not take in what was
meant ; he repeated the word with a smile.

" Our misses, the leddies at the castle," said Adam,
laconically.

Lewis was so profoundly astonished that he gave a cry of
dismay.

" The ladies at the castle ? — Miss Murray of Murkley ? "
he said.

" Ay," said Adam, once more fixing him with a tran-
quil but somewhat severe gaze. Then after a minute's
reflection, " And wherefore no ? "

Then Lewis laughed loud and long, with a mixture of
excitement and derision in his astonishment : the derision
was at himself, but Adam was not aware of this, and a
shade of offence gradually came over as much as was visible
of his face.

" You're easy pleased with a joke," he said. " I cannasay
I see it. ' ' And went on with his long steps devouring the way.

Lewis followed after a little, perhaps slightly ashamed of
his self-betrayal, although there was no betrayal in it save
to himself. As he looked round again he saw the group of
ladies standing at the Murkley gate. Probably their
attention had been roused by the sudden peal of his^
laughter, of which he now felt deeply ashamed. They
were going in at the smaller gate, which the lodgekeeper
stood holding open for them, but had paused apparently
to look what it was that called forth the young stranger's
mirth. He was so self-conscious altogether that he could
scarcely believe the occasion of his laugh must be a mystery
to them, and felt ashamed of it as if they had been in the
secret. His impulse was to rush up to them, to assure
them that it did not matter, with an eagerness of shame
and compunction which already made his face crimson.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 19

What was it that did not matter ? But then he came to
himself, and blushed more deeply than ever, and slunk
away. He did not hear the remarks the ladies made,
but divined them in his heart. What they said was brief
enough, and he had indeed divined it more or less.

" What is the lad laughing at ? Do you think he is so
ill-bred as to be laughing at us, Jean ? "

" What could he find to laugh at in us, Margaret ? "

" 'Deed that is what I don't know. Let me look at you.
There is nothing wrong about you that I can see, Jean."

" Nor about you, Margaret. It is, maybe, Lilias and
her blue veil."

" Yes, it's odious of you," cried the third, suddenly
seizing that disguise in her hands and plucking if from her
face, " to muffle me up in this thing."

" You will not think that, my dear, when you see how
it saves your complexion. No doubt it was just the blue
veil ; but he must be a very ill-bred young man."

CHAPTER IV

THIS was also the opinion of Janet when she heard of the
encounter on the road. Her demeanour was very grave
when she served her guest with his dinner, of which one
of the aforesaid trout constituted an important part. ^ She
did not smile upon him as in the morning, nor expatiate
upon the diverse dishes, as was her wont, but was curt ancf
cold, putting his food upon the table with a thud of her
tray which was something like a blow. Lewis, who had
not been used to the mechanical attention of English
servants, but to attendants who took a great deal of interest
in him and what he ate, and how he liked it, felt the change
at onqe. He was very simple in some matters, as has
been said, and the sense of disapprobation quite wounded
him. He began to conciliate, as was his nature.

" This is one of Adam's trout," he said.

" Just that ; if it wasna Adam's trout, where would I
get it ? " said the ungracious Janet.

" That is true ; and a great deal better than if it came
from a shop, or had been carried for miles."

20 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" Shop ! " cried Janet, with lively scorn. " It's little

rou ken about bur countryside, that's clear. Where would
get a shop if I wantit it ? And wha would gang to sic
a place that could have trout caller out of the water."

" Don't be so angry," said Lewis, with a smile. " After
all, you know, if I am so ignorant, it is my misfortune, not
my fault. If I had been asked where I wanted to be born,
no doubt I should have said the banks of Tay."

" That's true," said Janet, mollified. " But you would
do nothing o' the sort," she added. " You're just making
your jest of me, as you did of the misses."

" I — -jest at the — misses," said Lewis, with every
demonstration of indignant innocence. " Now, Mrs.
Janet, look at me. Do you think I am capable of laughing
at — anyone — especially ladies for whom I would have
a still higher respect — if I knew them. I — jest i Do
you think it is in me ? " he said.

Janet looked at him, and shook her head.

" Sir," she- said, but with a softened tone, " you're
just a whillie whaw."

" Now, what is a whillie whaw ? I don't mind being
called names," said Lewis, " but you must not call me a
ruffian, you know. If one has no politeness, one had
better die."

" Losh me ! it's no just so bad as that. I said sae
to Adam. A young gentleman may have his joke, and
no just be a scoundrel."

" Did Adam think I was a scoundrel ? I am sorry I
made such a bad impression upon him. I thought we had
become friends on the river-side."

" Oh, sir, you're takin' me ower close to my word. I
wasna meaning so bad as that ; but, according to Adam,
when you set eyes upon the misses, ye just burst out into
a muckle guffaw : and that's no mainners — besides, it's
not kind, not like what a gentleman's expected to do — in
this country," Janet added, deprecating a little. " For
ony thing I ken," she added, presently, " it may be
mainners abroad."

"It is not manners anywhere," said Lewis, angrily.
" But Adam is a great deal too hard upon me, Mrs. Janet.
I did not break into a loud — anything when I saw the
ladies — why should I ? I did not know who they were.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 21

But afterwards when I discovered their names Yon

must sympathize with me. I had been looking for young
ladies, pretty young ladies," he said, with a laugh at the
recollection. " There is something more even that I could
tell you. There had been some idea of an arrangement
— of making a marriage, you understand — between a
Miss Murray and a — gentleman I know ; — if the friends
found everything suitable."

" Making up a marriage," Janet echoed, with bewilder-
ment, " if the friends found it suitable ! "

" Just so — nothing had been said about it," said the
young man, "but there had been an idea. And
when, knowing he "was young, I beheld — two old
ladies "

" I dinna know what you call old," said Janet, with a
little resentment. " If Miss Margaret's forty, that's the
most she is. She's twa-three years younger than me. Ay,
and so there was a marriage thought upon, though your
friend had never seen the leddy^ ? and maybe the leddy was
no in the secret neither."

" Oh, certainly not," Lewis cried.

" It would be for her siller," said Janet, very gravely.
" You would do well to warn your friend, sir, that there's
awfu' little siller among them ; they've been wranged and
robbed, as I was telling you. Not only they're auld, as ye
say, but they're puir, that is to say, for leddies of their
consequence. I would bid him haud away with his plans
and his marriages, if I were you."

" Oh, there was, perhaps, nothing serious in it ; it was
only an idea," said Lewis lightly. " The trout has been
excellent, Mrs. Janet. You cook them to perfection.
And I hope you are no longer angry with me or think me
a scoundrel, or even — the other thing."

" Oh, ay, sir, ye' re just the other thing — ye' re a whillie
whaw — ye speak awfu' fair and look awfu' pleasant, but
I'm no sure how you're thinking a' the time. When I'm
down the stairs getting the collops you'll maybe laugh and
say, ' That's an old full* to yoursel'."

" I should be an ungrateful wretch if I did," said Lewis,
" especially as I am very anxious to see what pleasant
surprise you have prepared for me under the name of
collops."

22 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" Ah ! " said Janet, shaking her head, but relaxing in
spite of herself, " you're just a whillie whaw."

When she was gone, however, Lewis shook his head still
more gravely at himself. Was it not very imprudent of him
to have said anything about that project ? — and it was
scarcely even a project, only an idea ; and now it was
ridiculous. He had been very imprudent. No doubt this
woman would repeat it, and it would get into the air, and
everyone would know.

The presence of this young stranger at a little village inn
so unimportant as the " Murkley Arms " was a surprising
event in the village, and set everybody talking. To be
sure an enthusiastic fisherman like Pat Lindsay, from
Perth, had been known to live there for a month at a time
during the season, and to nod his head with great gusto
when Janet's merits as a cook were discussed. Most
people in Murkley were quite aware of Janet's merits, but
the outside world, the travellers and tourists who passed,
so to speak, on the other side, had no information on the
subject. And she felt a certain gratitude to the visitor
who • gave her an opportunity of showing what was in
her.

" He's welcome to bide as long as he likes, for me."

This was her answer to the many questions with which
at first she was plied on the subject. The minister, who
was a man of very liberal mind and advanced views, was
soon interested in the stranger, and made acquaintance
with him as he lingered about on Sunday after church
looking at the monuments in the churchyard. Lewis
went to church cheerfully as a sort of tribute to society,
and also as the only social meeting to which he could get
admittance. He loved to be among his fellow-creatures,
to see other people round him, and, unknown as he was,
this was almost his only way of enjoying the pleasure.
The minister, whose name was Seton, accosted, him with
very friendly intentions.

It was thus that Lewis made his first entry into society
in the village.

" You should have seen his bow, my dear," the minister
said ; " he- is just awfully foreign, but a good fellow for
all that, or else my skill in faces is at fault."

This was to prepare Mrs. Seton to receive the stranger,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 23

whom, indeed, the minister brought in with a sense of an
unauthorized interference in what was not his department.
He was at liberty to bring an old elder, a brother minister,
even a farmer of superior description ; but Mrs. Seton
was particular about young men. Katie was sixteen,
and " there was never any telling," her mother said.
In the present case the risks were even greater than usual,
for this young man was without an introduction, nobody
to answer for him or his respectability, and a foreigner
besides, which was at once more terrible and more seductive
than an intruder native born.

" Your father is so imprudent," she said to Katie.
" How can we tell who he is ? "

" He looks very innocent," said that young woman,
who had seen the stranger a great many times, and found
him entirely unlike her ideal. Innocent was not what
Miss Katie thought a young man ought to look. She
followed her mother to the early Sunday dinner, which
Mr. Seton entitled lunch, without the slightest excitement,
but there was already some one in the room whose presence
disturbed Katie's composure more. Of the three gentle-
men there assembled, Lewis was the least in height and
the least impressive in appearance. The two stalwart
Scotchmen, between whom he stood, with vigour in every
line of their long limbs and every curl of their crisp locks,
threw him into the shade. He "was shorter, slighter, less
of him altogether.

The other young man whom he had found there, when the
minister showed him into the little drawing-room and went
to report what he had done to his wife, was in reality half
a head taller, and looked twice the size of Lewis". He
was brown and ruddy, like most of the men about, accus-
tomed to expose himself to the weather, and to find his
occupation and pleasure out of doors. He was slightly
shy, but yet quite at his ease, knowing that it was his
duty to talk and be friendly to the stranger, and doing
his duty accordingly, though he had none of Lewis's eager
desire to make himself agreeable. When the minister
entered they were introduced to each other as Mr. Murray
and Mr. Stormont, upon which Lewis said immediately
with a little effusive pleasure :

" Ah, I know your name very well ; you must belong to

24 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

the tower on the other side of the river. I attempt to
sketch you almost every day."

" Oh ! " said young Stormont, and in his mind he added,
"It's an artist," which seemed to account for the stranger
at once.

" My attempts have not been very successful," Lewis
added, laughing. "I go out with Adam when he goes
to fish, and when a trout is very interesting my sketch-book
falls out of my hands."

" You can't see much of the tower from the other side,"'
said Stormont. " I hope you will come and study it near
at hand."

"That I will do with great pleasure," cried Lewis.
It exhilarated him to find himself again in good company.
" You are very kind to admit me into your house," he said,
with frank gratification, to the minister. " Mrs. Janet
and her husband are very interesting ; they throw a great
light upon the country : but I began to long to exchange
a little conversation with persons — of another class."

" I am sure we are very glad to see you," said Mrs. Seton.
" It must be lonely in an inn, especially if you have come
out of a family. We have seen you passing, and wondered
what you could find in Murkley. There is no society here.
Even the tourists going out and in are a variety when
you are further north, but here we are just dropped in a
corner and see nothing. Oh, yes, old Pat Lindsay who
thinks of nothing but his trout. Trout are nice enough
things on the table, but not as the subject of conversation.
Even Mr. Stormont here is away oftener than we would
like him to be."

" Only for the shooting," said Stormont, " and a little
while in Edinburgh in the winter, and sometimes a run up
to town in the spring."

" How much does that leave ? " said the lady, playfully.
" But never mind, we cannot expect to bind a young man
here. I think of the time when my own boys will grow
up and want to be moving. Thanks be to" Providence,
Katie's a girl and will stay at home."

Katie's eyes, which were bright and brown like the Tay,
opened a little wider at this, and gave out a glance which
was half laughter across the table. Lewis, looking on
with great interest, felt that the glance was winged to

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 25

somewhere about that part of the table where young Stor-
mont sat, and felt a great sympathy and interest. He met
her eyes with a slight smile in his, making unconscious
proffer of that sympathy, which made Katie blush from
head to foot, and grow hot with indignation as well, as
if she had been found out.

" Mr. Murray has been a great traveller," said the
minister, " and, Katie, you should seize the opportunity
to try how your German sounds, my dear. It is apt to be
one thing on a book and another in the mouth. I made so
dreadful a failure in the speaking of it myself the first time
I tried to do it that I never made the attempt a second
time. But I suppose one language is the same as another
to you."

" Katie speaks it very well, I believe," said her mother ;
" but, dear me, where is the use of it here ? We are out
of the way both of books and people, and how is a girl to
keep it up ? There's a great deal of nonsense about
teaching children foreign languages, in my opinion. But,
whisht, let me think what company we have that would
suit Mr. Murray ; everybody is so far off. To be sure,
there is one family, but then they are all ladies — the
Miss Murrays at the castle. We must not leave them
out, but they would be little resource to a young man."

"And perhaps they are not so kind, so hospitable as
you," said Lewis. " I have already, I fear, offended them,
or if not them, then their admirers. It is they who are called
the Misses ? Then I thought that must mean young
ladies, very young. It was foolish, but I did so. And
when in the road with Adam we encountered these old
ladies "

" Oh, stop, stop, not old. I cannot have them called
old," cried Mrs. Seton. " Bless me, Miss Jean is not much
more than my age."

" And it does not matter whether they are old or young,"
said Katie ; "we are all very fond of them."

" And I," said Lewis, putting his hand on his heart,
" respect them infinitely. I am much interested in those
ladies. The oldness is nothing — it does not affect me.
I wish to know them above everything. I have known
their grandfather — abroad."

" Bless me," said Mrs. Seton ; "old Sir Patrick ? This

26 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

is most interesting. I never saw him ; he was away
before we came here. And what did you think of him ?
He was a tyrant, I've always heard, and a terrible egotist ;
thinking of nothing but his own pleasure. You know the
story, I suppose, of how he left all his money away from
the family ; and nothing to any of them but the old house
and that big folly of a new one. I wonder they don't
pull that place down."

" Oh, mamma, if money was to come into the family !
that is what Lilias says. If some uncle they never heard
of was to come from India, or somebody they had been
kind to die all at once, and leave them a fortune."

" I will not have you see so much of Lilias, if she fills
your head full of nonsense," said Mrs. Seton. " Such
folly ! for they have no uncle in India, that ever I heard
tell of ; and people now-a-days don't make those daft-like
wills — though, to be sure, Sir Patrick's an example. Did
you ever see, Mr. Murray, the young man we've heard
so much about ? "

" The fellow that got the money ? " young Stormont
said.

" What kind of a being was it ? " said the minister.
" Some supple foreign lad that nattered the silly old man.
It has always been strange to me that there was nobody
near to speak a word for justice and truth."

" You are hard upon foreigners," said Lewis. " It
is not their fault that they are foreign. Indeed they
would not be foreign there, you know, but the people of
the country, and we the foreigners. I knew this fellow,
as you say. He was not even foreign, he was English.
The old gentleman was very fond of him, and good to
him. He did not know anything about the money."

" Ah, Mr. Murray, you'll never persuade me that.
Would a young man give up years of his life to an old one
without any expectations ? No, no, I cannot believe
that."

" Did he give up years of his life ? Oh, yes, I suppose
so. No one thought of it — in that light. He loved him
like his father. There was no one else to take care of
him, to make him happy. I see now from the other point
of view. But I do not think he meant any harm."

This Lewis said much too seriously and anxiously for

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 27

his role of spectator, but at the moment, there being no
suspicion, no one remarked his nervous earnestness. He
cast a sort of appealing glance round the table, with a
wistful smile. For he was ready by nature to take every-
body he met into his confidence. He had the most un-
bounded trust in his fellow-creatures, and he wanted to
be approved, to have the sympathy of those about him.
He, whose impulse it was to be always looking out of the
window — how could he put up shutters, and retire into
seclusion and mystery ? It was the thing of all others
most difficult to him. But he was quick and ready, and
kept his wits about him, having been thus put on his
guard. He betrayed something else with great and simple
pleasure — his own accomplishments, which were in Mrs.
Seton's opinion, many. He showed them his amateur
sketch-book, which seemed the work of a great artist
to these uninstructed people, and, indeed, was full of
fairly brilliant dashes at scenery and catchings up of effect,
which he himself was well aware were naught, but which
were very attractive to the uncritical. And it was all
they could do to keep him from the piano, where he sadly
wanted to let them hear one or two morceaux from the
last opera. Mrs. Seton had to place herself in front of the
instrument with an anxiety to prevent the desecration of
the Sabbath without exposing herself to the charge of
narrow-mindedness, which was highly comic.

" That will be for to-morrow," she said. " We must
not have all our good things at once. No, no, we must leave
something for to-morrow. The servants, you see, have
prejudices — we have to consider so many things in a
manse. A clergyman's family are always talked about :
and then economy's my principle, Mr. Murray ; we must
keep something for to-morrow. And that just reminds
me that I hope you will come in a friendly way and spend
the evening — we have no parties, you know, here — but
if you will just come in a friendly way ; and then it will
give us the greatest pleasure," Mrs. Seton said, nodding
her head and smiling.

Thus immediate advantage sprang from the * over-
boldness of his foreign ways ; and when he left the manse,
young Stormont, though somewhat contemptuous of a
man who " went in for " music and spoke all sorts of

28 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

languages, yielded to the ingratiating ways of the stranger
and invited him half surlily to lunch with him next day
at the tower, which Lewis accepted with his usual cordiality.

He went back with a sense of exhilaration to the parlour
overlooking the village street, all so still in the drowsy
Sunday afternoon.

" Me void lance,'1 he said to himself, with glee. He had
known the excitements of society very different from that
of Murkley, but he knew the true philosophy of being not
only contented, but pleased, when you cannot get every-
thing you like, with what you are lucky enough to be
able to get.

CHAPTER V

" WE must ask just whoever there is to ask," said Mrs.
Seton. " You see, there will be no difficulty in enter-
taining them, with that young man. He will play his
music as long as anybody will listen to him, or I'm mistaken.
Philip Stormont is coming ; I had to ask him, as he was
there ; and you can send Johnnie over with a note to the
Borrodailes, Katie, and I'll write up to the Castle myself.
Then there's young Mr. Dunlop, the assistant at Braehead.
He is of a better class than most of the young men : and
the factor — but there's three girls there, which is a terrible
band of women. If you were very good, and all things
went well, and there were two or three couples, without
disturbing other folk, and papa had no objection "

" We might end off with a dance — that was what I
expected," cried Katie, clapping her hands. " I'll put
on my hat and run up to the Castle to save you writing."

" Stop, stop, you hasty thing ! — on a Sabbath afternoon
to give an invitation ! No, no, I cannot allow that. Sit
down and write the notes, and you can date them the
1 5th " (which was next morning), " and see that Johnnie
is ready to ride by seven o'clock at the latest. But I
would not let you go to the Castle in any case, even if it
had not been Sunday, for most likely they would not bring

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 29

Lilias. I will just ask Miss Margaret and Miss Jean to
their tea. If there was a word of dancing, there would be
no chance ; they would just say, ' She's not out.' '

The preparations made were almost as careful as if it
had not been impromptu. The furniture was deftly
pushed, and edged,, and sided off to be as little in the way
as possible. The piano was drawn into the corner which,
after much experiment, had been settled to be the best ;
there was unusual sweeping oft-repeated to clear the
room of dust. Flowers were gathered in the most prodigal
profusion. The manse garden was old-fashioned, and
well sheltered, nestling under a high and sunny wall.
The June fulness of roses had begun, and all sorts of sweet-
smelling, old-fashioned flowers filled the borders.

Katie 'had her little white frock, which was as simple
as a child's, but very dainty and neat for all that, laid
out upon her little white bed, with a, rose for her belt and
a rose for her hair, fresh gathered from the bushes, and
smelling sweet as summer. Tea was set out in the dining-
room, where aiterwards the cold ham and chickens were
to take the place now occupied by scones of kinds innu-
merable, cookies, and jams, and shortbread, interspersed
with pretty bouquets of flowers. It was much prettier
than dinner, without the heavy fumes which spoil that
meal for a summer and daylight performance. But we
must not jump at once into the heart of an entertainment
which cost so much pains and care.

Mrs. Seton's note was delivered early at the Castle next
morning.

" I am asking one or two friends to tea," she wrote,
" and I hope you will come. A gentleman will be with
us who is a great performer on the piano." It was in this
way that the more frivolous intention was veiled. But,
unfortunately, as is the case with well-known persons in
general, Mrs. Seton's friends judged the past by the present,
and were aware of the risks they would run.

" It will be one of her usual affairs," said Miss Margaret,
with a glance of intelligence and warning to her sister.

" Just that, Margaret, I should suppose," said Miss Jean.

" Then it will not be worth while for Lilias to take the
trouble of dressing herself, Jean — a few old ladies invited
to their tea."

30 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" That was what I was going to say, Margaret. I would
not fash to go, if I was Lilias. She can have Katie here
to-morrow."

" Sisters ! " cried Lilias, springing up before them, " you
said that last time, and there was a dance. It is very hard
upon me, if I am never to have a dance — never till I am
as old as you."

The two ladies were seated in two chairs, both large, with
high backs and capacious arms, covered with faded velvet,
and with each a footstool almost as large as the chair.
They were on either side of the window, as they might have
been, in winter, on either side of a fire. They wore black
dresses, old and dim, but made of rich silk, which was still
good, though they had got ever so many years' wear out of
it, and small lace caps upon their heads. Miss Jean was
fair, and Miss Margaret's brown locks had come to re-
semble her ' sister's by dint of growing grey. They had
blue eyes, large and clear, so clear as almost to be cold ;
and good, if somewhat large, features, and resembled
each other in the delicacy of their complexions, in
which there was the tone of health, with scarcely any
colour. Between them, on a small, very low seat, not
sitting with any dignity, but plumped down like a child,
was the third, the heroine of the veil, whose envelope had
disguised her so completely that even the lively mind of
Lewis had not been roused to any curiosity about her.
She had jumped up when she made that observation, and
now flung herself down again with a kind of despairing
abandon. She looked eighteen at the utmost, a small, slight
creature, not like the other ladies in a single feature, at
any time ; and now, with her brow puckered, the corners
of her mouth drooping, her eyes wet, more unlike them,
in her young excitement and distress, than ever.

" Now, Lilias, don't be unreasonable, my dear. If it's
a dance, it stands to reason you cannot go ; but what
reason have you to suppose it is a dance ? None whatever.
' I am asking one or two friends to tea.' Is that like
dancing ? She would not ask Jean and me, I suppose,
if that was what she meant. We are going to hear a
gentleman who is a great performer on the piano. It
appears to me that will be rather a dreary style of enter-
tainment, Jean ; and I am by no means certain that I will go."

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 31

" Well, Margaret," said Jean, " having always been
the musical one of the family, it's an inducement to me ;
but Lilias, poor thing, would not care for it. Besides, I
have always been of the opinion that we must not make
her cheap, taking her to all the little tea-parties."

" Oh, how can you talk such nonsense, when you never
take me to one, never to one ! and me close upon eighteen,"
the girl cried. " Katie goes to them all, and knows every-
body, and sees whatever is going on ; but I must do nothing
but practise and read, practise and read, till I'm sick of
everything. I never have any pleasure, nor diversion,
nor novelty, nor anything at all, and Katie "

" Katie ! Katie is nothing but the minister's daughter,
with no expectations, nor future before her. If she marries
a minister like her father, she will do all that can be expected
from her. How can you speak of Katie ? Jean and
me," said Miss Margaret, " have just devoted ourselves to
you from your cradle."

" Not quite from her cradle, Margaret, for we were then
young ourselves, and her mother, poor thing "

" Well, well, I did not intend to be taken to the letter,"
said Miss Margaret, impatiently. " Since ever you have
been in our hands — and that is many years back — we
have been more like aunts than sisters to you. We have
given up all projects of our own. A woman of forty, which
is my age, is not beyond thinking of herself in most cases."

" And, reason good, still less," said Miss Jean, " a
woman of eight-and-thirty."

" So little a difference as two years cannot be said to
count ; but all our hopes we have put upon you, Lilias.
We might have been jealous of you, seeing what your
position is, and what ours is ; we would have had great
cause. But, on the contrary, we have put all our pride
upon you, and thought of nothing but what was the best
for you, and pinched ourselves to get masters and means of
improvement, and taken houses in Edinburgh winter after
winter "

" Not to speak," said Miss Jean, " of the great things
Margaret has planned, when the time comes, which was not
done either for her or me."

" I know you are very kind," said Lilias, drying her eyes.

" My dear," said Miss Margaret, " a season in London,

32 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

and you presented to the Queen, and all the old family
friends rallying round you — would I think of a bit little
country party with a prospect before me like that ? "

At this Lilias looked up with her eyes shining through
the wetness that still hung upon her eyelashes.

" It is very, very nice to think of, I don't deny. Oh, and
awfully, awfully kind of you to think of it."

(Let it be said here in a parenthesis that this " awfully,
awfully " on the lips of Lilias was not slang, but Scptch.)

" I think it is rather good of us. It was never done,
as she says, for either Jean or me."

" I doubt if it would have made any difference," Said
Miss Jean. " What is to be will be ; and making a curtsey
to the Queen — unless one could get to be acquainted with
Her Majesty, which would be a great honour _and plea-
sure "

" It just makes all the difference," said Miss Margaret,
who was more dogmatic ; " it just puts the stamp upon a
lady. If you're travelling it opens the doors of foreign
courts, if you stay at home — -well, there is always the
Drawing-room to go to."

" And can }^ou go whenever you like, after you have
been once introduced ? " Lilias added, with a gleam of
eagerness.

" Surely, my dear ; you send in your name, and you
put on your court dress."

"That will be very nice," said the girl. Her bosom
swelled with a sigh of pleasure. " For of course the finest
company must be always there, and you will hear all the
talk that is going on, and see everybody — ambassadors
and princes, when they come on visits. Of course you
would not be of much importance among so many grand
people, just like the ' ladies, &c.,' in Shakespeare. They
say nothing themselves, but sometimes the Queen will
beckon to them and send them a message, or make them
hold her fan, or bring her a book ; but you hear all the
conversation and see everybody."

" I am afraid," said Miss Jean, who had been watching
an opportunity to break in, " you are thinking of maids-

of -honour and people in office. Drawing-rooms " but

here she caught her sister's eye and broke off.

" Maids-of-honour are of course the foremost," said

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 33

Miss Margaret. " I don't see, for my part, why Lilias should
not stand as good a chance as any. Her father was a
distinguished soldier, and 'her grandfather, though he has
not behaved well to us, was a man that was very well-known,
and had a great deal of influence. And the Queen is very
feeling. Why she might not be a maid-of-honour, as
well as any other young lady, I am at a loss to see."

Lilias jumped to her feet again, this time in a glow of
pride and ambitious hope.

" Me ! " she said (once more, not for want of grammar,
but for stress of Scotch). Miss Jean, scarcely less excited,
put down her knitting and softly clapped her thin hands.

" That is a good idea ; there is no one like Margaret
for ideas," she said.

" I see no reason why it should not be. She has the
birth, and she would have good interest. She has just
got to let herself be trained in the manners and the ways
that are conformable. Silly lassie ! but she would rather
go to a little tea-party in the country."

" No, no, no ! " cried the girl, making a spring towards
her, and throwing her arms round the speaker's neck.
" You don't know me yet, for I am ambitious ; I should
like to raise the house out of the dust, as you say — I, the
last one, the end of all. That would be worth living for ! "
she cried, with a glow of generous ardour in her eyes.

But when Lilias watched her sisters walking away, with
their maid behind them carrying their shoes, across the
park to the little gate and green lane which led by a back-
way to the manse, it was scarcely possible that her heart
should not sink within her. Another of those lingering,
endless evenings, hour after hour of silvery lightness after
the day was over, like a strange unhopeful morning, yet
so cool and sweet, lingered out moment by moment over
this young creature alone.

" Did you really mean yon, Margaret ? " Miss Jean
said to her sister, as she walked along towards the manse. ,

" Do you think I ever say out like that an)/thing I don't
mean, Jean ? I might humour the child's fancies, and let
her think the drawing-rooms were real society, like what
she reads ; but the other, to be sure I meant it — wherefore
not ? — the last of our family, her father's daughter, and
a girl with beauty. We must always recollect that. You

34 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

and I were good-looking enough in our day ; you are
sometimes very good-looking'"yet "

" That's your kindjieart, Margfaret."

" What has my kind heart to do with it ? But Lilias
has more than we ever had — she has beauty, you know.
Something should be made of that. It shoulcTnot just run
away into the dust like our good looks, and be of profit
or pleasure to nobody. The Honourable Lilias Murray —
it would sound very well ; and then in the service of the
Queen. Don't go too far forward, Jean ; but it is a thing
to think of, to keep her heart up with. The little thing
is veryjhigh-spirited when you take her the right way."

" My heart smote me to come away and leave her,
Margaret."

" Why should your heart smite you ? Would you like
her to be talked about as the belle of a manse parlour, and
perhaps worse than that — who can tell, at her age ? She
might see some long-legged fellow that would take her
fancy — a factor's son, or an assistant minister, or even Philip
Stormont, who is not a match for a Murray."

" Say no more, Margaret. I am quite of your opinion."

" And that is a great comfort to me, Jean. We can
do things together that we could never do separate.
Please God she shall have her day ; she shall shine at the
Queen's court, and marry nobly, and, if the family must
be extinguished as seems likely, we'll be extinguished
with 6clat, my dear, not just wither out solitary like you
and me.'-'

CHAPTER VI

NEXT morning rose still fair and bright, though Adam
declared it would be the last day of the fine weather.
Lewis was delighted to think of his two engagements.
He did not care for his own exclusive society. He set
out for Stormont when the sun was high, at an hour
which all the experience of his previous life proved to him
to be an impossible one to walk in, and found it only
bright and genial with all the breadth and hush of noon,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 35

but without any of its oppressive qualities. He went
across the river in the big ferry-boat, along with a farmer's
shandrydan.

And the road was beautiful. It wound up the slope
of a fine wooded bank behind the cliff, with tall trees
mounting upward, the roots of one showing bold and
picturesque through the feathering tops of the^others,
in broken, irregular lines. When he had got about half-
way up he saw the house, of which one turret only sur-
mounted the cliff. It was not large, but its small windows
and the rough, half-ruined battlements showed that, at
some time or other, it might have been defended — which
interested Lewis beyond measure. The lower story had
been modernized, and twinkled with plate-glass windows
receiving the full sunshine ; but the building altogether
was like something which had grown out of the soil, not
a mere house made with hands.

Stormont led his visitor all over the place. He took
him upon the bit of battlement that remained, and showed
him that it commanded the cliff in reality, though this
did not appear from below ; and he took him into the
chapel, a curious little detached piece of sixteemth century
architecture, which nobody knew much about, desecrated
to common uses which made Lewis shiver, though he said,
quite simply, that he was " not religious. "-

And then the two young men went into the modernized
part of the building, into the drawing-room, where Mrs.
Stormont, in her widow's cap, sat knitting near one of
those windows which looked out upon the long rolling
fields of the strath and the hills beyond. The country
was rich with green corn waving thick and close, a very
different landscape from that which was lighted up by
the rapid flow of the river. The lady received Lewis very
graciously. She made a few delicate researches to find
put, if possible, to whom he belonged, but he was so
ignorant of the Murrays, all and sundry, and so ready with
his statement that the name had come to him as an
inheritance along with money that curiosity was baffled.

" But he has a very nice face," Mrs. Stormont said, when
he was gone. " I like the looks of him ; there's innocence
in it, and a good heart. He would do very well for Katie
Seton, if he means to settle here.'*

2*

36 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" There is no question, so far as I know, either of his
settling here or of Katie Seton. I would not be so free
with a girl's name, mother, if I were you," Stormont said,
with some indignation.

Perhaps it was to call forth this remark, which afforded
her some information, that his mother spoke.

CHAPTER VII

THE greater part of the company were assembled when
Lewis entered the manse. He had been in some doubt
how to dress for this rustic party. He appeared, how-
ever, with a black silk handkerchief, tied in a somewhat
large bow, under his shirt-collar, instead of the stiff little
white tie with which all the other men recognised the
claims of an evening party. On the other side, he kept
his*hat in his hand, while all the other people left in the
hall their informal caps and wideawakes, thus showing
that he w#s not at all sure of his ground, as they were,
but felt it necessary to be prepared for everything.
Perhaps he had never seen before the institution of tea.
Little cups he had indeed swallowed at various hours
during the day — after the dejeuner in foreign houses, at
five o'clock in English ones, whenever the occasion served
in the apartments of princely Russians — but an English
tea, round a long table, with cakes and scones, and jam,
and every kind of bread and butter dainty, he was totally
unacquainted with.

When the meal was over, and the company streamed
into the drawing-room, where there was an unusual and
suspicious vacancy, the furniture pushed into corners,
betraying to all the habitues the intention of the hostess,
Lewis was set down to the piano almost at once.

" Hush," Mrs. Seton said to a little group about her.
" Just hold your tongues, young people. There is to be
something rational to begin with ; and let me see that
you take advantage of your opportunities, for it is not
often you can hear good music. Nonsense, Katie, not
a word. Do you not see that the sooner he begins, the

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 37

sooner it will be over ? and I am just bound to ask him
to play, after yesterday. Little monkeys," the minister's
wife continued, seating herself beside Miss Jean. " They
would like to have it all their own way ; but I always
insist on something rational to begin with. Oh, yes, yes,
a great treat ; some really good music. It is not often
we hear it. And this is just an opportunity, you know,
a most unusual chance. Well, we do not know very
much about him, but he is a most well-mannered young
man, brought up abroad, which accounts for various little
things in his appearance, and so forth. And just a beauti-
ful performer on the piano. I wonder what that is. It
sounds to me like Mozart, or Beethoven, or some of those
that you don't so commonly hear. Bach, do you think ?
Well, I should not wonder. You know, songs are my
branch."

Lewis had gone into the first movement of his sonata
before he had at all taken into consideration the character
of his audience. He was, in reality, though Mrs. Seton
took up the belief entirely without evidence, a very good
performer, and had played to difficult audiences, whose
applause was worth having. After the first few minutes
it became apparent to him by that occult communication
which is in the air, and which our senses can give no account
of, that this audience was not only unprepared but very
much taken aback by the prospect of even half an hour
of the really good music and rational enjoyment which
their hostess promised. He could see when he suffered
his eyes to stray on a momentary rapid survey of the
side of the room which was visible to him, the excellent
Mrs. Borrodaile, with her fat hands crossed in her lap,
and the air of a woman who knew her duty and was
determined to do it. Stormont stood bolt upright in
the corner, now and then lifting his eyebrows, or lowering
them, or even forming syllables with his lips in telegraphic
communication with one or other of the young ladies
which showed impatience bursting through decorum in
a guarded but very evident way. The minister, with
resignation depicted in every line, even of his beard, turned
vaguely over the leaves of a book. When the movement
came to an end, there was a long breath of unquestionable
relief on the part of the company generally.

3& IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" That's a very pretty thing,- said Mrs. Borrodaile,
almost enthusiastic in the happiness of its being done
with.

"Oh, hush, hush; that's only the first part. Dear
me, do you not know that there are different parts in a
great piece of music like that ? Go back, go back to your
seat," whispered Mrs. Seton, loudly.

It was all that Lewis could do not to laugh aloud behind
the shelter of the piano. He thought he had never seen
anything so comical as the resigned looks of the party
generally, the reluctant hush which ran round the room
as tie struck the first notes of the second movement.
Mischief began to twinkle in his eyes. He stopped, and
his hearers brightened. Then he broke into the lively,
graceful music of a gavotte, tantalising yet cheering —
and finally, after another pause, dropped into a waltz,
which was more than the young people could bear. He
stood up, and looked at them over the piano, playing all
the while. " Dansons ! " he cried : and in a moment,
despite of Mrs. Seton and her precautions, the whole
party was in movement. Never in Tayside had such a
waltz been played before. Mrs. Seton was an excellent
performer in her way. She was unwearied, and could
go on for hours on a stretch, and she knew every tune
that lad and lass could desire. But young Lewis, stand-
ing, stooping, encouraging them with his merry eyes,
gliding with skilful hands on the keys, now softer, now
louder, giving a double rhythm to the sweep of the dance,
which was formal enough so far as the performers went,
but yet took an additional grace and freedom from the
music — played as no one had ever played to them before.
When he stopped, with a peal of pleasant laughter that
seemed to run into the music, after he had tired out every-
body but Katie, the whole party came crowding round
to thank him. It was so kind I it was so delightful !

" Oh, play us another, Mr. Murray,- cried the girls.

" Tut, tut," said Mrs. Seton, bustling in, " is that all
your manners ? So impatient that you made him stop
that beautiful sonata, which it was just a privilege to
hear, and then pestering him to play waltzes, which is a
thing no good musician will do. I am sure, Mr. Murray,
you have behaved like a perfect angel ; but these girls

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 39

shall not tyrannize over you. No, no, I'll just take the
piano myself ; it is no trouble to me. You will think it
is bold of me, playing before such a performer, but I just
never mind : and they like me as well as anyone. Come
now, Katie, and see that Mr. Murray gets a nice partner.
He will take a turn himself.'1

And with this the indefatigable little woman of the
house sat down, and played waltzes, polkas, and schot-
tisches (which latter made Lewis open his eyes) for hours
on end, indicating meanwhile with her vigilant glances,
and with little nods of her lively head, to her husband
and children the various little offices in which it was
necessary they should replace her. Thus a nod in the
direction of Mrs. Borrodaile called the minister's attention
to the terrible fact that one of his guests was going to
sleep : while a movement of the eyebrows directed towards
the factor's youngest daughter showed Katie that the
young woman in question was partnerless, while a young
man in another corner had escaped observation. Mrs.
Seton managed to talk also all the time to Miss Jean, who
sat beside her.

"I am so used to it ; it is really no trouble to me.
When you have young people growing up, you must just
make up your mind to this sort of thing. Yes, yes, it
becomes a kind of mechanical. Dear me, I must not
talk ; that bar was all wrong. But they're not par-
ticular, poor things, so long as you just keep on, and keep
the time ; but playing set pieces was always beyond me,1'
Mrs. Seton said. And on she went for hours, with a hard
but lively hand, keeping capital time, and never tired.

The " set pieces " which she thus deprecated, and which
had been beyond her, meant by implication the sonata
which Lewis had begun to play.

As for that young man himself, he found pleasure
in everything. The country girls were perhaps a little
wanting in grace, and did not valse as high-born ladies
do in the lands where the valse is indigenous ; but they
were light and lively, and the evening flew by to his great
entertainment. Then there was a reel danced, at which
he looked on delighted. Katie, who was a little ashamed
of these pranks, stood by him primly, and pretended to
be bored.

40 IT WAS A LOVER A&D HIS LASS

" You must not think that is the sort of thing we care
for in Scotland," she said. " It is quite old-fashioned.
You see, it amuses the country people, and mamma will
always insist upon having one to keep up the old fashion ;
but you must not think that we care for it," Katie
said.

" That is unfortunate," said Lewis. "It is so much
like the national dance everywhere. The tarantella —
you have heard of the tarantella ? It is like that. For
my part, I like what is old-fashioned. "

" Oh, yes, in furniture — and things," said Kate, vaguely.
And she took pains not to commit herself further.

He was so good a dancer that she neglected Philip
Stormont for him, to the great discontent of that young
athlete, who thereupon devoted himself to Annie Borrodaile
in a way which it went to Katie's heart to see. The
windows stood wide open ; the scent of the flowers came
in ; the roses and the tall white lilies shone in the silvery
light. Everything was quaint and unreal to Lev/is,
to whom it had never happened to dance in the lingering
daylight before. The strange evening radiance would
have suited his own poetic valse better than the sharp,
hard, unvaried music which Mrs. Seton continued to
make with so much industry. When the reel was over,
he went to the piano to relieve that lady.

" Let me play now. I shall like it ; and you must be
tired — you ought to be tired," he said.

" Mr. Murray is the most considerate young man I ever
saw," said Mrs. Seton, shaking on her bracelets again.
" You see he has relieved me whether I would or not.
As a matter of fact, I'm never tired so long as they go
on ; I'm so used to it. But when somebody comes, you
know, and really says to you, I would rather — though
it is difficult to understand it, with so many nice girls
dancing. And so you would not bring Lilias, Miss Mar-
garet ? I did hope, I must say, just for to-night."

" You see," said Miss Margaret, solemnly, " she is not
out yet."

" Oh, you can't think that matters among friends.
Katie is not out, the monkey. But, to be sure, as I tell
her always, she is very different. Poor Lilias ! Don't
you think it would be better for her just to see what the

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 41

world is like a little before she comes out. She will be
forming such high-flown ideas."

It was then that Miss Jean found courage to address
the stranger, who had left the piano for the moment, in
consequence of a little bustle about supper, and was
standing by, with his friendly face smiling upon the party
in general, but without any individual occupation.

" You will excuse me," said Miss Jean, " but I must
make you my compliment upon your music — and more
than your music," she said, looking, to see how he would
take it, into his face.

" There has not been very much music," he said, with
a smile. " It was a mistake to begin anything serious."

" It was perhaps a mistake ; for you did not know how
little the grand music is understood," said Miss Jean.
" But, if you will let me say it, it was very fine of you,
being just a young man, not used to be disappointed."

" Indeed," said Lewis, " I am not unused to be dis-
appointed." Then he laughed. " It was not worth
calling a disappointment. It is all new here, and it
amused me like the rest."

" But I call it a fine thing to change like that in a
moment, and play their waltz for them," said Miss Jean.
" It means a fine nature — neither dour nor hasty."

" Jean," said Miss Margaret, with an admonitory glance,
" you are probably giving your opinion where it is not
wanted."

" Don't say so, please ! " cried Lewis, putting his hands
together in a gesture of entreaty. It was one of those
foreign ways which they all liked, though they would
scoff at them in the abstract. " I am very glad I pleased
you. That makes me more happy even than if — the
company " (he intended to say you, but paused, perceiving
that he must not identify these ladies with the company)
*' had liked music better."

" But you must not think," said Miss Jean, " that they
don't like music. They are very fond of it in their way,
-as much as persons can be without education."

*' She means," said Miss Margaret again, " that your high
music is not common with us. You see, we have not
Handel in every church like you. England is better off
in some" things. But, if you speak of education in general.

42 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

it is far behind — oh, far behind ! Every common person
here has a chance with the best."

" And do you like that ? "- Lewis said.

" Do I like it ? Do I like democracy, and the levelling
down of all we were brought up to believe in ? Oh, no.
But, on the other hand, I like very well that a clever lad
should have the means of bettering himself. There is
good and evil in everything that is human," said Miss
Margaret, very gravely.

Lewis stood before her, with the smile still upon his
face, observing her very slowly, wondering, if she knew
who he was, whether she would consider him as a clever
lad who had bettered himself. He could not have gazed
so, without offence, into a younger face ; as it was, his
fixed look made Miss Margaret smile. To blush for any-
thing so young a man could do, she would have thought
beneath her dignity.

" You think what I am saying is very strange ? " she said.

" Oh, no ; it is very just, I think," he cried ; but at
this moment Mr. Dunlop, the young assistant at Braehead,
came forward to offer Miss Margaret his arm. Lewis
offered his to Miss Jean. " This is not wrong ? " he said.
" One does not require to wait to be told ? v

" But I am sure a young lady would be more to your
taste," said Miss Jean, smiling benignly. "Never mind
me ; I will go in in time. And look at all these pretty
creatures waiting for somebody. "

But Lewis continued to stand with one arm held out,
with his hat under the other, and the bow which some
thought so French, but the Miss Murrays considered to
be of the old school. Miss Jean accepted his escort in
spite of herself. She said :

" I would like to hear you play the rest of yon upon our
old piano. It was a very good piano in its day, but,
like its mistress, it is getting old now.-'

" A good instrument is like a lady ; it does not get old
like a common thing. It is always sweet," said Lewis.
" I will come with — happiness."

An Englishman, of course, would have said with
pleasure, but these little slips on the part of Lewis, which
were sometimes half intentional, were all amply covered
by'his accent.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 43

" I will play -to you as much as you please, il he added.
*' I have nothing here to do.'4

" But you came for the trout ? " said Miss Jean. " No,
no, I will not take you from the trout. My sister Margaret
would never hear of that. But when the fishing is over,
perhaps -1

" I am no fisher. I sit and watch while Adam struggles
with the trout ; it amuses me. But abroad, I suppose
we are less out of doors than in England. Mr. Stormont
tells me we may expect a great many wet days, and
what shall I have to do ? May I come and play Beethoven
during the wet days ? "

" We will see what Margaret says," said Miss Jean, a
little alarmed lest she should be going too far.

Miss Margaret was on the other side of the table. He
looked at her with a great deal of interest. She was a
dark-eyed woman, looking older than her age, with hair
which had a suspicion of grey in it. Miss Jean had no
grey hairs. Her cheek was a little hollow, but that was
almost the only sign of age in her. But they dressed
beyond their years, and were quite retired among the
matrons, neither of them making the slightest claim to
youth.

" Miss Margaret is your elder sister ? '-' he said, with an
ingratiating openness. " Pardon me, if I am very full
of curiosity. I have seen your old castle, and I met
you once upon the road ; but there were then three
ladies ? "

" That was Lilias," said Miss Jean. " She is quite
young, poor thing. We stand in the place of mothers to
her, and there are some times that I think Margaret over-
anxious. She will always rather do too much than too
little.'1

" She has a countenance that is very interesting," said
Lewis. Fortunately, he could not say here a face that
amused him, which he might have done, had he not been
very desirous of pleasing, and anxious not to offend.

" Has she not ? " cried Miss Jean, triumphantly. " She
has just the very finest countenance 1 When she was
young, I can assure you, she was very much admired.'-'

" I see no reason why she should not continue to be
admired," said Lewis.

44 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" Oh, we have given up everything of that kind," said
Miss Jean with a little laugh.

But, for almost the first time, she felt inclined to ask,
Why should they ? A woman of forty is not an old
woman. And Miss Jean was very conscious that she
herself was only thirty-eight.

" Perhaps it is the charge we have. I could not really
say what it is — but all that has been long over. We
have not been very long in this county. I think I may
say that we will be glad to see you, and show you the old
house. And then there is the other place," Miss Jean
continued. It was a little exciting to her to talk to "an
utter stranger," there were so few that ever appeared in
Murkley. " But there is nothing in that to see, only
the outside. And whoever passes is welcome to see the
outside."

" The country people think it is haunted/' said Lewis.

"No, no; that is just a fancy. It is not haunted, it
is quite a new place. If you want a place that is haunted,
there is our old Walk. There is no doubt about that.
We are so used to it that nobody is frightened, and I rather
like it myself. We will let you see that," Miss Jean said.

She was pleased with the stranger's bright face and
deferential looks, and, in her simple kindness, was eager
to find out something that would please him, though
always with a doubt which dashed her pleasure whether
she was doing what her sister would approve.

" That will give me great happiness," said Lewis again.
" It is all to me very new and delightful to see the houses
and the castles. I have been to Mr. Stormont's house
to-day. I have seen a great many old chateaux abroad ;
but here it is more simple and more strange. To be great
persons and seigneurs, and yet not any more great than that."

Miss Jean looked at him with a little suspicion, not
understanding.

" We have never travelled," she said, after a little
pause. " Which was a pity, I have often thought : and
Margaret is of that opinion too. It might have made a
great difference to us."

She sighed a little as she spoke, and Lewis felt a hot
wave of shame and trouble go over him. She meant,
no doubt, that, if they had travelled, he would never have

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 45

been thus mingled in their fate. He did not know what
to say, for a sudden panic seized him lest she should find
him out. Good Miss Jean had no. idea that there was
anything to find out. She ate her little piece of chicken
daintily, anxious all the time lest she should be detaining
her companion from the dancing, or from the society of
the young people.

" Supper was really quite unnecessary after such a tea.
It is a thing we never take."

" You must try a little of this cream, Miss Jean," cried
Mrs. Seton. " It is none of your confectioner's cream,
that is all just froth put into a refrigerator, but our own
making, and I can recommend it : or a little jelly. The
jelly had scarcely time to stand ; it is not so clear as I
should like ; but you know the difficulty with country
cooks. And, Mr. Murray, I hope you will make a good
supper. I am sure there is nobody we have been so much
obliged to. Everybody is speaking about your wonderful
playing. Oh, yes, yes, I am inclined to be jealous, that is
quite true. They used to be very well content with me,
and now they will think nothing of me. But I am just
telling Katie that, if she thinks she is going to get a fine '
performer like you to play her bits of waltzes, she is very
much mistaken. Once in a way is very well — and I am
sure they are all very grateful — but now they must just
be content, as they have always been hitherto with
mamma. They are just ungrateful monkeys. You must
be content with me, Katie, and very glad to get me.
That is all I have to say."

" If Miss Katie would wish me to hold the piano for
the rest of the evening ? — that is, when I have re-conducted
this lady to the drawing-room."

" Oh, will you ? " cried Katie, with tones of the
deepest gratitude. " It is only one waltz. Mamma never
lets us have more than one waltz after supper ; and it will
be so kind ; and we will enjoy it so much. Just one
waltz more."

" But let it be a long one," the others cried, getting
round him.

Lewis smiled, and waved his hand with the most genial
satisfaction in thus so easily pleasing everybody.
t* But I must first re-conduct this lady," he said.

46 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER VIII

" WAS it Murray they called him ? '-'-

This question was put to Miss Jean, who had confessed,
with a little hesitation, her rashness in inviting the
stranger " to play his music " at the Castle, as the sisters
walked home. It was a very sweet evening ; not later
than eleven o'clock, notwithstanding all the dancing.
The ladies had left, however, before that last waltz, and
the music continued in their ears half the way home,
gradually dying away as they left the green lane which
led^to the manse, and got into the park. Miss Jean was,
as *she described afterwards, " really shy li of telling
Margaret the venture she had made ; for to meet a stranger
whom you know nothing about out is a very different thing
from asking him to your house, especially when it was a
young man ; and there was always Lilias to think upon.
So that on the whole Miss Jean felt that she had been
'rash.

" To tell you the truth, I cannot say I noticed, Margaret.
Yes, I rather think it was Murray ; but you never catch
a name when a person is introduced to you. And, after
all, I am not sure. It might be me she was calling Murray
— though, to be sure, she never calls me anything but
Miss Jean."

" Ifjt was Murray, it will be easy to find out to what
family^ he belongs,'-4 said Miss Margaret. " And Lilias
need not appear.11

" Dear me," cried Miss Jean ; " but that would be a
great pity, Margaret, and a great disappointment to the
young man. I thought to myself to ask him to come and
play was a kind of liberty with a stranger, but then, I
thought, it will be a pleasure to him, poor lad, to see
such'' a pretty creature as our Lily. It is not much we
have'^to give in return.-1

" I am not fond of young men coming to stare at
Lilias, \ said Miss Margaret. " You forget she has no
mother. You and me are bound to be doubly particular ;

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 47

and how do we know what might happen ? She is very
inexperienced. She might like the looks of him ; for
he has a pleasant way with him — or, even if it were not
so bad as that, yet who can tell ? it might be hurtful to
the young man's own peace of mind."

" Well, that is true, Margaret," said Miss Jean. " I
thought it would have been better to consult you first —
but, dear me, one cannot think of everything ; and it
seems so innocent for two young people to meet once in a
way, especially when the young man has his head full of
his music, and is thinking about nothing else."

" That's a very rare case, I am thinking," Miss Margaret
said.

" It is a very rare case for a young man to be musical
at all," Miss Jean replied, with a little heat — which was an
unquestionable fact on Tayside.

They went along noiselessly, with their softly shod and
softly falling feet, two slim, dark figures in the pale twi-
light, with the maid trotting after them. But for her
plump youthfulness, they might have been three congenial
spirits of the place in a light so fit for spiritual appearances.
There was nothing more said until they had almost reached
home ; then Miss Margaret delivered herself of the con-
clusion to which she had been coming with so much
thought.

" It was perhaps a little rash — considering the charge
we have, and that the young man is an utter stranger —
but one cannot think of everything, as you say. And I
cannot see why you should be deprived of a pleasure —
there are not so many of them — because of Lilias. We
will say just nothing about it. We will trust to Provi-
dence. The likelihood is she will be busy with her lessons,
poor thing, and she will think it is just you playing the
piano."

" Me ! " cried Miss Jean, " playing like yon."

11 Well, well, you know I am no judge, and Lilias not
much better. If he can satisfy me what Murrays he
belongs to, and can stand a near inspection, she may come
in ; I'll make no objection," Miss Margaret said, graciously,
as she opened the door.

The key was turned when the family went to bed, but
the hall-door of Murkley Castle stood open all day long in

48 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

primitive security. Miss Jean lingered a little upon the

"It is just the night," she said, " to take a turn down
the Walk."

" Oh, you'll not do that, mem ! " cried Susie, the main.

" And why not, you silly lassie ? If you'll come with
me, you will see there is nothing to fear."

" Eh no, mem ! " cried Susie ; " no, if you would give
me the Castle to mysel'."

" What is that you are saying about the Walk ? Come
in, Jean, it is too late for any of your sentiment. And,
Susie, my woman, go you to your bed. If we had any
business in the Walk, both you and me would go, be you
sure, and I would like to see you say no to your mistress.
Come in, that I may lock the door."

Nobody contradicted Miss Margaret in that house. Miss
Jean glided in most submissively, and Susie behind her,
trying hard, ' but ineffectually, to make as little noise.
But, in spite of herself, Susie's feet woke echoes on the old
oak floor, and so did the turning of the key in the great
door. The noises roused at least one of the inhabitants.
Old Simon, the butler, indeed slept the sleep of the just in a
large chair, carefully placed at the door of the passage
which led to " the offices," in order that he might hear
when the ladies came home ; but Lilias appeared presently
at the head of the fine old open staircase, which descended,
with large and stately steps, into the hall. She had an
open book laid across her arm, and her eyes were shining
with excitement and impatience. They had wept, and
they had perhaps dozed a little, these eyes, but were
now as wide open as a child's when it wakes in the middle
of the night. Her hair was tumbled a little, for she had
been lying on a sofa, and a white shawl was round her
shoulders ; for even in a June night, in an old house with
all the windows open, especially when you are up late, you
are apt to feel cold on Tayside. She held a candle in her
hand, which made a spot of brightness in the dim light.

" Oh, Margaret," she said, " oh, Jean ! is that you at
last ; and was it a dance ? I went up to the tower, and
I am sure I heard the piano."

" You would be sure to hear the piano whatever it
was," said Margaret, silencing her sister by giving a

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 49

sudden pull to her gown. " There is always music at the
manse. There was a grand sonata by one of Jean's
favourites, and her head is so full of it she can talk nothing
but music."

" Oh, a sonata ! " cried Lilias, relieved, and she gave
her head a small toss, and laughed ; " that is a long, long
thing on the piano, and you are never allowed to say a
word. I'm glad that I was not there."

" That was what I told you," said Miss Margaret.
" Now go to your bed, and you'll hear all the rest to-
morrow. You should have been in your bed an hour ago
at least. To-morrow you shall have a full account of
everything, and Jean will play you a piece of the sonata.
I am sure she has got it all in her head."

" Oh, I'm not minding ! " said Lilias, lightly.

She thought, on the whole, her novel had been better.

She stood thus lighting them as they came up-stairs,
and they thought her the prettiest creature that had
ever been seen ; her sweet complexion shining against
the dark wainscot, her eyes giving out more light
than the candle. It smote Miss Jean's heart to deceive
her, and it was a faltering kiss which she gave to this
little victim. But Miss Margaret carried things with a
high hand.

" It would be just barbarous," Miss Margaret said,
when they were safe within the little suite of rooms that
formed their apartment, one chamber opening into the
other, " to tell her all about it to-night. You can tell
her to-morrow, when there's a new day in her favour.
She would just cry and blear her eyes ; but to-morrow is a
new day."

" I cannot bide," cried Miss Jean, " whatever you may
say, Margaret — I just cannot bide to disappoint the
darling. I am sure it went to my heart to see her just
now so sweet and bonnie, and nobody to look at her but
you and me."

" The bonnier she is, and the sweeter she is, is that
not all the more reason, ye foolish woman, to keep her
safe from vulgar eyes ? Would you make her, in all her
beauty, cheap and common at these bits of parties at the
manse ? No, no. We had no mother either, and perhaps
we did not have our right chance, but that's neither here

50 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

nor there. We're in the place of mothers to her, and Lilias
shall have her day ! "

This silenced Miss Jean, whose mind was dazzled by her
sister's greater purposes and larger grasp. She retired to
hef inner room with a compunction, feeling guilty. It
was a shame to deceive even for the best motives, she
felt ; but, on the other hand, she could relieve her con-
science to-morrow, and there was such sense in all Margaret-
said.

" Margaret is just a wonderful creature for sense," Miss
Jean said to herself. This had indeed been her chief
consolation- in all the difficulties of her life.

Meanwhile, other conversations were going on among
the groups which streamed from the manse, taken leave
of heartily by the family at the gate. It was " such a
fine night " that Mrs. Seton herself threw a shawl over
her head, and walked, with those of her friends who were
walking, to the gate.

" Oh, yes, yes, I'll not deny, though I say it that
shouldn't, I think it has gone off very well," she said;
" and, indeed, we have to thank Mr. Murray, for I take
no credit to myself to-night. Oh, yes, I'll allow in a general
way I do my best to keep you all going ; but, dear me !
I'm not to be mentioned by the side of Mr. Murray. A
performer like him condescending to play your bits of
waltzes and polkas for you ! — you ought to be very proud.
Oh, yes, I know fine playing when I hear it, though I
never did much, except in the way of dance music, myself.
In dance music I used to think I would give in to nobody ;
but pride will have a fall, and I have just sense enough
to know when I'm beaten — oh, yes, that I am. You'll
be very glad to come back to me when Mr. Murray is not
to be had, I make no • doubt ; you are just ungrateful
monkeys, but I'll trust you for that."

Mrs. Seton's voice ran on in a sort of continued solo, to
which all the other murmurs of talk afforded an accompani-
ment. She shook hands with Lewis at the gate with the
most cordial friendliness.

" And whenever you weary," she said, " be sure you
just come up to the manse. Mr. Seton will always be glad
of a talk, and there is nothing I like so well as to hear
about foreign society and scenery and all that ; and I can

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 51

understand it better than most, for I have been up the
Rhine myself : and Katie will be most grateful for a little
help with her German ; so, you see, you'll be welcome
on every hand," the lady said, with a grasp of his hand
which meant everything she said.

Lewis walked to the river-side with young Stormont,
who was not quite so cordial.

" You've had it all your own way to-night, Murray,"
this young fellow said, with a laugh which was not pleasant
to hear.

" They are very kind to a stranger — it is true hospitality ;
but I think it was you that had it your own way, for you
would not listen to my music," said Lewis. Then he, too,
laughed — a laugh which was to the other's like sunshine
to a cloud. "I did cheat you all the same," he added,
" for the waltz was Beethoven's too — and quite as difficult,
if you had but known."

Mr. Stormont did not understand much about Beethoven,
but he felt that it was impossible to say the fellow was
stuck-up about his music ; privately in his own mind he
despised all male performances as things unworthy of the
sex.

" Miss Seton dances very prettily with you, my friend,"
said Lewis. " You have practised much together, that is
what one can see. I watched you while I was playing.
She dances always well, but better with you than anyone.
But tell me, for you know, about those ladies whom every-
one calls Miss Margaret and Miss Jean."

" Oh, the old ladies at Murkley ! Why, these are the
people we were talking about on Sunday. You made a
great impression there — we all noticed," cried Stormont,
with a laugh, which this time was somewhat rude, but quite
cordial, " the impression you made there."

" Yes ? " said Lewis, gravely ; with the thoughts he
had in his mind he did not mean to allow any ridicule.
" It is the Miss Margaret that is the eldest. She will have
everything, I suppose, in your English way."

" Oh, if that is what you are thinking of," cried Stor-
mont, in a startled tone ; and then he stopped and laughed
again, the sound this time pealing into all the echoes.
" No, no, my fine fellow," he said, " if that's what you're
thinking of, you are out there ; when it's women, they're

52 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

co-heiresses. The law has not so good an opinion of them
as to make an eldest son of a woman : so you're out
there."

" Out there ! " said Lewis, astonished. " What does
that mean ? And I do not understand co-heiresses either ?
These ladies — no, I will not say amuse me — I am interested
in them. I have heard of them before I came here —
indeed, it was for that cause," he added, with one of his
imprudent confidences, then stopped short, giving emphasis
to what he said. " What is meant by co-heiresses, if you
please ? "

" It means," said Stormont, with a chuckle of mingled
ridicule and contempt, " that when there are sisters they
share and share alike. It was not very much to begin
with, so you may judge, when it is divided, whether it is
worth anyone's while now. But try, my fine fellow, try ;
you will not find many rivals," he added, with a scream
of laughter. '

Lewis looked up very gravely as he walked along by
his companion's side.

" There is something which amuses you," he said :
" perhaps it is that I am slow in English. I do not perceive
the joke."

" Oh, there is no joke," said Stormont, coming to him-
self ; and they walked to the river-side, where the ferry-
man was waiting, in a subdued condition, neither saying
much. Lewis, who had been in extremely high spirits
after his success at the party, had suddenly fallen into a
blank of embarrassment and perplexity, which silenced
him altogether. He was angry, without quite knowing
why, with Stormont. But this was nothing to the con-
fusion which had overwhelmed his mind. He walked up
to his own inn in a state of bewilderment which it would
be difficult to describe. It was partially comic, but it
was not until he had reached his parlour, and seated
himself opposite to the little paraffin lamp, which always
smelt a little, and gave to his most intimate thoughts a
sort of uneasy odour, that he was able to laugh at his cwn
discomfiture ; then gradually the amusing aspect of the
whole business came over him ; he laughed, but neither
long nor loud. It was too disagreeable, too annoying to
laugh at after the first realization of the dilemma He

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 53

was quite hushed and silenced in his simple mind by the
discovery he had made.

For it is time now to put plainly before the reader the
intention with which this young man had come to Murkley.
It was with the well-considered purpose of remedying
the evident mistake which his old friend and patron had
made. Sir Patrick had withdrawn his fortune from his
own family, and given it to his adopted son, leaving his
grandchildren poor, while Lewis was rich — Lewis, who
had what people call, " no claim " upon him, who had
only been his son and servant for eight years of his life,
giving him the love, and care, and obedience which few
sons give with so entire a devotion. He had no claim but
this, and he had expected nothing. When he -found himself
Sir Patrick's heir, and a rich man, no one was so much sur-
prised as Lewis ; but still, so it was, and he accepted his
patron's will as he would have accepted anything else
that happened in which he himself had a share. But, as
soon as he heard of the family and their disappointment,
Lewis had made up his mind that he must do his best to
remedy it. It would be his duty, he thought, to offer
himself and his possessions to the lady who ought to have
been Sir Patrick's heir. When he had discovered that
these ladies at Murkley were no longer young, it would be
too much to assert that it was not a shock to him. But
the shock lasted only for a moment. He had not come to
Murkley with the intention of pleasing his own fancy, but
to fulfil a duty ; and the age of the lady, or her appearance,
or any such secondary matter was little to him. It was
with this view that he had looked at Miss Margaret across
the table. It was impossible not to feel that the relation-
ship would be a peculiar one, but he felt nothing in himself
that would prevent him from entering into it worthily.

When he looked at Miss Margaret, the thought in his
mind was not so much any objection of his own to marry
her, as the certainty that she would object to marry him.
He felt that it would be a derogation, that she would come
down from her dignity, give up her high estate, if she
accepted what he had to offer.

He studied her face with this idea in his mind. Was it
the least likely that a woman with a countenance like that
would buy even justice so ? Miss Jean, to whom he was

54 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

talking, was more malleable. It bewildered him a good
deal to look at them, and to think that one or the other of
these ladies before whom he bowed so low, who looked
at him with timidly suspicious eyes of middle age, might,
should, must, if he had his way, become his wife. But
in his own person he never hesitated ; he did not know how
it was to be brought about. If it could be done, as
" abroad," by the intervention of an agent, the matter
would have been greatly simplified. But this, he was
partially aware, was not possible in England. Neither in
England, according to what he had h^ard, would it be
possible to settle it as a friendly arrangement, a piece of
mercenary business. No, he knew he must conform to
English rules, if he would be successful, and woo the
wronged lady with all the ordinary formulas. He would
have to fall in love with her, represent himself as dying
for her. All these preliminaries Lewis had felt to be hard,
but he had 'determined within himself to go through with
them. He would be heroically tender, he would draw upon
novels and his imagination for the different acts of the
drama, and carry them through with unflinching courage.
He was resolved that nothing should be wanting on his
part. But it cannot be denied that S torment's revela-
tion took him altogether aback. Co-heiresses ! — he could
not offer himself to two ladies — he could not declare love
and pretend passion for two ! He remembered even that
there was a third, the one in the blue veil, and it was this
thought that atj.ast touched an easier chord in his being,
and relieved him with a long low tremulous outburst of
laughter.

" Three ! " he said to himself all at once, and he laughed
till the tears stood in his eyes. He had been ready loyally
to^overcome all other objections, to bend before a beloved
object of forty, and to declare that his happiness was in
her hands, with^the purest loyalty of heart and truth
of intention ; but before three — that was impossible —
that was out of the question. He laughed till he was ready
to cry ; then he dried his eyes, and took himself to task as
disrespectful to'^the ladies, who had done nothing to for-
feit anyone's respect, and then burst forth into laughter
again.

When he got up next morning, the mirth of the night

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 55

was over ; he felt then that the position was too serious
for laughter. For a moment the temptation of giving
up altogether a duty which was too much for him came
over his mind. Why should not he go away altogether
and keep what was his ? He was not to blame ; he had
asked nothing, expected nothing. He was guiltless
towards the descendants of his old friend, and they knew
nothing either of him or of his intentions. He had but
to go away, to walk back to the " George " at Kilmorley,
and turn back into the world, leaving his portmanteaux
to_follow him, and he would be free. But somehow this
was an expedient which did not please his imagination at
all. The little rural place, the people about who had
become his friends, the family with which he felt he had
so much to do, kept a visionary hold upon him from
which he could not get loose. He struggled even a little,
repeating to himself many things which he could do if he
were to free himself. He had never seen London — he had
never been in England. The season was not yet entirely
over, nor London abandoned ; he could yet find people
there whom he had met, who would introduce him, who
would carry him to those country houses in which he had
always heard so much of the charm of England lay. All
this he went over deliberately, trying to persuade him-
self that in the circumstances it was the best thing to
do ; but the result of his thoughts was that, as soon as
he felt it was decorous to do so, he set out for the Castle.
One visit, in any case, could do, he reflected, no harm.

CHAPTER IX

THE next day, as Adam had prophesied, the weather
changed, or rather it changed during the night, and the
morning rose pale and weeping, with a sky out of which
all colour had departed, and an endless blast, %lmost white,
so close was the shower, of falling rain. Little rivulets
ran away down the pebbly slope of the village street
towards the river when Lewis got up ; the trees were all
glistening ; the birds all silenced ; a perpetual patter of
rain filling the air.

56 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

And after he had eaten his luncheon, Lewis sallied forth,
much pleased to be able to say that he was going to the
Castle, where, indeed, the sound of the bell at the door
stirred and excited the whole household, which had no
hope of anything so refreshing as a visitor.

Miss Margaret was seated above-stairs with Lilias in a
room devoted to what was called her studies, and generally
known by the title of the book-room, though there were
but few books in it. Lilias jumped up and rushed to the
window ici the very midst of the chapter of constitutional
history which she was reading with her self-denying elder
sister.

" There is no carriage," she said ; " it will be some-
body from the village."

" Never mind who it is," said Miss Margaret ; " we must
finish our chapter."

Miss Jean was alone in the drawing-room, which was a
large room, with a number of small windows, high set in
the thick old walls, each with its own little recess. She
had all her work materials there ; a basket of fine silks
in every shade, a case of pretty, shining silver imple-
ments, scissors, and thimbles, and bodkins, and on her lap
a wonderful table-cover, upon which, as long as any
of the young people remembered, she had been working
a garland of flowers. It was her own invention, drawn
from Nature, and consequently, as she sometimes ex-
plained with a little pride, the winter-time, which was the
best time for working in general, was lost to her, since
she always liked to have her models under her eyes. At
the present moment, a little cluster of pansies was before
her in a glass, and the colours arranged upon the table
in which she was to copy them. But she was not working ;
her table-cover lay on her lap. She was looking out
vaguely upon the rain, and the wet trees, and the village
roofs.

The character of the place seemed to change at -once
when Lewis came in. Life, and cheerfulness, and variety
carne with him. He was very anxious to please and make
himself agreeable. He told her of his walk to the water-
side, of Stormont «in the river, and Adam on the bank ;
water above and water below.

" You will think me very effeminate," he said. " I

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 57

much prefer this nice drawing-room ; " and he looked
round it with an admiring air that pleased Miss Jean.

To tell the truth, Lewis was thinking that, though
picturesque, it was probably damp, a suggestion which
would not have pleased Miss Jean at all.

" Gentlemen are very venturesome," said Miss Jean ;
" indeed, the wonder is that they are not all laid-up with
rheumatism — but they're used to it, I suppose."

" I am not at all used to it," said Lewis ; and then he
added, with one of his confidential impulses : " A great part
of my life I have spent in attendance upon a dear old
friend."

" Indeed," said Miss Jean, her eyes lighting up with
interest. " That is out of the way for a young man.
You will excuse me, but I take a great interest — not father
or mother, as you say a friend ? "

" No : my godfather, who took me up when my father
and mother died, and who was like father and mother in
one. He was lonely and old, and I never left him — for
years."

As Lewis spoke there came a gleam of moisture into his
eyes, as he looked smiling into the face of the sympathetic
woman, who had she but known — But no suspicion
crossed the mind of Miss Jean.

" Dear me ! " she said ; " lonely and old are sad words.
And you gave up your young life to him ? There are few
that would have done that."

" Oh, no, there was no giving-up, it was my happiness,"
said Lewis ; "no one was ever so kind ; he was my dear
companion. And then, you know, abroad " — he smiled
as he said this generic word which answered for every-
where— " abroad boys are not all brought up to be athletic ;
to defy the elements, as in England "

" I do not know very much about England," said Miss
Jean, entirely unconscious that her visitor meant to em-
brace Tayside in this geographical term, " but there is
too much fishing and shooting here. That is my opinion.
I like a young man to be manly, but there are more things
in the world than the trout and the birds. And no doubt
you would learn your music to please your invalid ? That
is very touching. I took an interest from the first, but
still more now when I know the cause."

58 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" That reminds me," cried Lewis, " that my sole excuse
for coming was to play to you."

"Don't say that, Mr. Murray. We are very glad to
see you," said Miss Jean, though not without a quiver,
" without any reason at all."

" That is very kind, more kind than I can say. A
stranger has double reason to be grateful."

" The advantage is ours," said Miss Jean, with old-
fashioned politeness ; and then there was a momentary
pause ; for the question would obtrude itself upon her,
in spite of herself, " What will Margaret say ? "

And then Lewis went to the piano and began to play.
Miss Jean took up her work and threaded her needle, and
prepared for enjoyment, for to work and be read to, or
hear music played to you was one of her beatitudes ;
but by-and-by the table cover fell upon her knees again, and
she turned her face- towards the musician in a growing
ecstasy of attention. The table-cover slipped over her
knees to the ground, and she was not even aware of it ;
the silks, so carefully arranged in their right shades,
dropped too, and lay all tangled and mixed up on the
carpet. Miss Jean did not care. She neither saw nor
heard anything but the music ; she sat with her hands
clasped, her eyes fixed upon the piano, her mind absorbed.
When he stopped, she could not speak ; she waved her
hand to him inarticulately, not even knowing what she
wanted to say. And Lewis, after a little pause, resumed.
It was some time since he had touched a piano, and his
mind too was agitated and full of many questions. It
was not for nought that he had got admittance here.
Perhaps a little of the elevation of a martyr was in his
thoughts. It had not occurred to him, so long as Sir
Patrick lived, that he was sacrificing his youth to the old
man. It had not occurred to him until he came here :
now he seemed to see it more clearly. And he had come
with the intention of sacrificing himself, once more, of
giving up natural choice and freedom, and returning his
fortune (burdened indeed with himself) to the family
from which it had come. It was only now with Miss
Jean's mild eyes upon him that he fully realized all this.
He kept looking at her, as he played, with close and
anxious observation. Lewis, though he was the per-

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 59

former, did not lose himself in the music as Miss Jean
did. When he stopped at last, she could not speak to him ;
her eyes were full of tears. She made him again a little
sign with her hand and was silent, waiting until she could
come down from that upper region, in which she had been
soaring, to common earth. Fortunately at this moment
Miss Margaret came in.

" So you have been playing to Jean ? " she said ; " that
is very amiable and very kind. She is not quite her own
woman where music is concerned. I thought it best to
leave the treat to her by herself, for I'm not a fanatic as
she is. But I am very much obliged to you for giving
my sister such a pleasure."

" The pleasure is," said Lewis, " to play to one who
feels it so much."

" I can fancy that,?i said Miss Margaret, " that it is not
just all on one side. You are meaning to settle in this
country, Mr. Murray ? There are many of our name
hereabout. We may possibly count kin with you ourselves
when we know what family ye are of."

" I fear not," Lewis said, shaking his head. He grew
pale, and then he grew red. Here was a danger he had not
thought of, and what was he to say ?

Lewis got up from the piano. He was glad to turn his
back from the light, to conceal his embarrassment.

" Indeed," he said, " I can't tell you even that. My
godfather had been long abroad ; he spoke little of his
people ; his money was all in the funds. I knew only
him, not his origin."

" That is very strange," Miss Margaret said. " There
are no godfathers in our Scotch way ; but I would have
thought your good father and mother would have been
particular about a man's antecedents before they made him
responsible."

" Oh, my father and mother " said Lewis — he was

about to say knew nothing of him, but stopped himself
in time — " they died,"- he said, hastily, " when I was
very young, and he took me up, when I had nobody to
care for me. It has all been love and kindness on his
part, and, I hope, gratitude on mine."

" Indeed, and I am sure of that," said Miss Jean.
" Just imagine, Margaret, a young man, not much more

60 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

than a boy, and he has devoted himself to this old gentle-
man. It is not many that would do that. He has given
up his youth to please him. He has learned to play like
yon for his sake. He has been a son to him, and more.
For my part, I never heard anything like it. He has
not a poor mind like yours and mine to inquire was he
Murray of this or that ; he just loved him, and served him
for love's sake. And is not that the best of all ? " Miss
Jean said. She was still in the rapture of the music she
had heard ; her heart touched, her eyes wet, her pulses
all throbbing in unison. She rose up in her enthusiasm,
letting the famous table-cloth drop again and walked on
it, unconscious of what she was doing, till she came to the
fire, near which her sister had established herself. Miss
Jean leant her hand upon the high mantel-piece, which
was a narrow shelf of marble, and stood up there, her head
relieved against the white and highly-carved pediment,
Her tall, slight figure, in its black gown, had a thrill of
emotion about it. Miss Margaret, seated at a little
distance in the glow of the small, bright fire, looked calm
like a judge, listening and deciding, while the other had
all the energy of an advocate.

" I am very glad to hear such a fine account of the young
gentleman," she said.

" Your sister takes me on my own evidence," said
Lewis. " It is only from me she has heard it, and I did
not know I was telling her all that. What I told her was
that my dear godfather was old and lonely, and that when
I was with him I could not learn to wade in the water and
devote myself to fishing like Stormont. It was jealousy
made me say so," cried the young man. " I thought Stor-
mont looked such a fine fellow risking his life for the trout,
and me, I was sorry to get my feet wet. What a difference !
and not to my advantage. So, to account for myself, and
to be an excuse, I told my story. ' Qui s'ercuse, s' accuse.'
I had no right to say anything about it. 'It was my
jealousy, nothing more."

" You can ring for the tea, Jean," Miss Margaret said.
This was the only decision she delivered, but it was enough.
She turned round afterwards, and made an elaborate
apology for her other sister. " You will be wondering
you do not see Lilias," she said, "but she is much occupied ;

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 61

she has a great many things to do. Another time when
you come I hope I may present you to her. She is so
important to us all that perhaps we are more anxious than
we need be. Jean and me, we are two, you see, to take
care of her : and she is the chief object of our thoughts."

" I hope it is not bad health," Lewis said, " that makes
you anxious." His idea was that Lilias must be the eldest
sister, and perhaps beginning to succumb to the burdens
of age.

Miss Margaret gave Miss Jean, who was about to speak,
a warning look.

" No," she said, "it is not bad health ; but there are
many things to be taken into account. And here comes
Simon with the tea," she added, in a tone of relief. If
there was a mystery on his part, there was a little conceal-
ment and conscious deception upon theirs too.

CHAPTER X

LEWIS was greatly elated by this easy beginning of his
undertaking. Everything had been so new to him in
these unknown regions that he did not know how he
was to make his way, or whether it would be possible to
penetrate into the circle of the ladies of Murkley at all.
And now everything was so simple, so natural, that he
wondered at his own fears. He was the acquaintance of
the whole village, or rather " the haill toun," as they called
themselves, and before he had been a fortnight in the place
was taken for granted as a member of the little community.
On the second rainy day he called at the manse, and for
politeness sake was asked to play there, and was listened
to with bustling attention by Mrs. Seton, while Katie
discreetly yawned behind her work, and Mr. Seton
recollected an engagement.

" I'm very sorry," the minister said, " but my time is
not my own. We ministers are like doctors ; we are
constantly being called away."

Lewis was not offended by the good man's excuses, nor
by little Katie's weariness. He played them his " piece,"

62 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

as Mrs. Seton called it, and then, with a laugh, left the
piano. Mrs. Seton thought it was essential to ask him to
go on.

" You're not getting up yet, Mr. Murray," she said.
" Oh, no, no, you mustn't do that. It is just a treat
such as we seldom get. You see, there are few people
that can give the time to it. You must have practised
a great deal, far more than our young people will take the
trouble to do. Oh, you never bound yourself to hours ?
That must have been because you were so fond of it, and
just played on without taking count of the time. Do you
hear that, Katie ? That is what you ought to do, if you
would ever be a performer like Mr. Murray. Just let him
hear you play that last thing of yours."

" But Mr. Murray doesn't want to hear me playr He
plays far better — oh, so much better — himself," cried
Katie.

"Just never you mind that," said her mother. "Do
your best, nobody can do more. When you are as old as
me, you will know that the best judges are always the ones
that are least hard to please. Just go at once, Katie.
Perhaps you will tell her what you see particularly wrong,
Mr. Murray," she added, as the girl reluctantly obeyed.

Lewis was so sympathetic that he was quite conscious
of Katie's indignation, and shamefacedness, and blinding
embarrassment, as well as of the humour of her mother's
remarks, which ran on all the time. He got up after a
little while and went and stood behind the young performer.

" Don't be frightened," he said, in an undertone. " If
you will play more slowly, and not lose your head, you will
do very well. I used to lose my head, too, and make a
dreadful mess of it when I was your age."

They were left to each other, while Mrs. Seton rose to
receive a visitor, and Lewis seized the opportunity of the
first break to substitute conversation for music.

By this time several callers had arrived, and Mrs.
Seton's monologue, with occasional interruptions, was
heard from the other end of the room. Mrs. Stormont
was one of the visitors, and Miss Jean another ; but,
though the former lady was a formidable obstacle, the
quickly-flowing tide of speech from the minister's wife
carried all before it.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 63

" Oh, yes, yes," she said, " that's just what I always say.
If it's not good for the country in one way, it is in another ;
it keeps down the insects and things, and, if it's bad for
the hay, it's excellent for the turnips. And, besides, it's
the Almighty's will, which is the best reason after all.
Sometimes it's very good for us just to be dull, and put up
with it — that's what I tell the children often. Oh, yes,
yes ; no doubt it's hard to convince young things of what
doesn't please them, but it's true for all that. There are
plenty of dull moments in life besides the wet days, and
we must just put up with them. Mr. Philip brought
us a beautiful present of trout just the other day; the
big one, what was it it weighed, Katie ? — six pounds ?
Yes, yes, six pounds. A lovely fish — I never saw a finer.
I was unwilling to take it, though that seemed ungracious.
I just said, ' Toots, Mr. Philip, not me this time ; you're
always so kind to the manse — you should send this to
some greater person.' -

" I did not know," said Mrs. Stormont, with very
distinct enunciation, " that my son had got anything so
considerable. The biggest one he brought home . was
four pounds ; but at Philip's age it's seldom that the best
wins as far as home."- She paused to shake hands with
Lewis with a certain demonstration of interest. " You
are going to settle down in our neighbourhood ? " she said.
" I'm sure I'm very glad to hear it. There's no better
situation that I know of. You're near the moors for the
shooting, and close to the river for the fishing, and what
could heart of man desire more ? "

" Unfortunately I am not much of a sportsman."

" Well, well, there are other attractions,'1 said Mrs.
Stormont, with unusual geniality. " We can supply you
with better things. A nice house and pleasant neighbours,
and a bonnie Scots lassie for a wife, if that is within your
requirements. Men are scarce, and you may pick and
choose. "

" Not quite so bad as that, I hope," said Mrs. Seton,
with a heightened colour. " No, no, not so bad as that ;
but still, no doubt, there are some fine girls."

" Some ! there are dozens," said the other, with an
evident meaning which Lewis, surprised, did not fathom ;
" and take you my word, Mr. Murray, you are in a grand

64 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

position. You have nothing to do but pick and
choose."

Miss Jean rose up quickly when this was said. She
was nervous and alarmed by every trumpet of battle.
She hastily interposed, with her softer voice.

" I must be going, Mrs. Seton. We will soon, I hope,
see you at the castle ; and Katie knows how welcome she
is. No, no, you'll never mind coming to the door. Here
is Mr. Murray will see me out," cried Miss Jean, eager to
be absent from the fray.

Mrs. Stormont, however, had delivered her shaft, and
it was she who led the way, with a smile of satisfied malice.

" You must really settle among us. You must not just
tantalize the young ladies," she said.

When she had been placed in her pony-carriage, and
driven away, Lewis took the opportunity thus presented
to him, and accompanied Miss Jean, somewhat to her alarm,
into the park through the little wicket. Miss Jean was
still a little nervous, with a tremor of agitation about
her.

" Did you ever hear anything like yon ? " she said.
" It was very ill-bred. You see Mrs. Stormont is a person
of strong feelings. That is always the excuse Margaret
makes for her. But you may disapprove of a thing,
surely, and show it in a way becoming a gentlewoman,
without going so far as that." "

" What is it," asked Lewis, always full of interest in his
fellow-creatures, " which this lady does not approve ? "

" There are great allowances to be made for her," said
Miss Jean. " You see Philip is her only son, and naturally
if he marries at all, she would like him to look higher. The
Setons are very nice people. I would not have you think
anything different ; but it would not be wonderful that
she should like him to look higher."

" I see ; then it is Mrs. Seton who has arranged to marry
her daughter to "

" Oh, you must not take that into your head. Bless
me ! I would not say that : it may never come the length
of marrying ; it is just that Philip is always hanging about
the manse. And Katie, she is very young, poor thing, and
fond of her amusement — they may mean nothing, for
anything I can tell ; and that is Margaret's opinion," Miss

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 65

Jean said, with trepidation. " Margaret has always said
it was nothing but a little nonsense and flirtation between
the young folk."

" Miss Katie is too young, she will think that is play ;
but when it is otherwise, when the lady is one who knows
what is in the world, and what it is to choose, and under-
stands what she would wish in the companion of her
life "

Here Miss Jean began to shake her head, and laugh
softly to herself.

" Where will you find a young creature that will be so
wise as that ? " she said.

" Perhaps I was not thinking of a young creature," said
Lewis, piqued a little by her laugh.

" Ah," said Miss Jean, " that is just another of your
French ways. I have heard that in their very stories
it will be an elder person, a widow perhaps, that will be
the heroine. That's a thing which is very repulsive to
the like of us in this country. You will perhaps think I
am very romantic, but I like none of your unnatural
stories. What I like is two young folk, not very wise
perhaps, mistaken it may be, but with honest hearts
towards one another, faithful and true ; that is what I
like to hear of — and no parents interfering, except just to
guide a little, and help them on."

" Ah ! " said Lewis, with an involuntary sigh, " that is
one way, to be sure ; but must all other ways be unnatural ?
Might it not be the elder person, as you say, should have
a charm greater than the younger, should be more sweet
in some one's eyes, kinder and truer ? All romance is
not of one kind."

" I cannot abide," said Miss Jean, severely, " the woman
that can begin over again, and tag a new life on to the tail
of another. No, I cannot 'bide that. It may be one of
my old-fashioned ways : but to everything there is a season,
as Solomon, in his wisdom, was instructed to say."

" That is different," said Lewis ; " but do you think,
then, that the heart grows old ? I have known some
who were as fresh as any young girl, or even as a child,
though they were not what you call young."

" Well, well ! " said Miss Jean, with a smile and a sigh,
" I will say nothing against that. I'll allow it's true. Oh,

66 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

yes ; but you're a clever young man to discern it. It is
just ridiculous,- she continued, bursting into a little laugh,
" the young feeling that — some persons have ; wrinkles
and grey hairs outside, and just the foolish feeling within,
as if you were still a bit foolish lamb upon the lee.'1

Miss Jean laughed, but there was a little moisture in
her eyes.

" You have neither wrinkles nor grey hairs, - said the
audacious Lewis. " You choose to be old, but you are not
old. Your eyes are as young as Miss Katie'.s, your heart is
more soft and kind. Why there should be anything
unnatural in a romance that had you for its centre I
cannot see."

" Me ! «

Miss Jean stood still in her astonishment ; a soft colour
passed over her gentle countenance, not so much with the
emotion appropriate to the occasion, as with wonder and
amazement. It was a moment before she 'fully realized
what he meant to say, and then :

" Bless the laddie 1 is he going out of his senses,'-5 she
cried. " Me ! "

" And why not ? I cannot see any reason," Lewis said.
He was always ingratiating, anxious to please, seeking
with a smiling anxiety for the sympathy of his companions.
He looked at her now with a tender desire to set her right
with herself. A respectful admiration was in his eyes ;
and indeed, as he looked with the strong desire which he
had to find out all that was best in the modest, gentle
countenance before him, it was astonishing how pretty
Miss Jean began to grow. The faded colour grew sweeter
and brighter, the eyes enlarged, the very contour of the
face became more perfect. He could not help saying
to himself that careful dressing, and a little stir and excite-
ment, would make her handsome ; and as for her age,
what did a few years matter ? Lewis said to himself
that he had no prejudices. When a man of forty marries
a woman of twenty-five, there is not a word to be said —
and why should there be any difference in this case ?
All this was written in his eyes, had Miss Jean been clever
enough to see it there. But she was not. She considered
that he was trying to please her, and make her satisfied
with herself, as a child sometimes does who cannot bear

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 67

to think that its mother or aunt is supposed old. Perhaps
it pleased her as even the child's naive compliment pleases.
She shook her head.

" You are very kind," she said, " to try to make me
think that age is as good as youth. But I'm not wishing
to be young — I am quite content, and there is no question
of that. What I was wanting to say was that I would
never be the one to cross two young things in an attach-
ment." A pretty colour was on Miss Jean's face ; she
blushed a little for the sake of the imaginary young people.
" I would not part them — who can ever tell what may come
of it ? — I would not part them,-* she said, with fervour.

Lewis felt a warm glow under his waistcoat, and thought
with a little complacency that he was falling in love with
Miss Jean as she spoke.

CHAPTER XI

AFTER the conversation with Miss Jean which has been
reported, Lewis felt that he had begun the undertaking
which brought him to Murkley. Before this it had been
in a vague condition, a thing which might or might not
come to anything. But now he had, to his own conscious-
ness at least, committed himself. What effect his words
might have had on Miss Jean's mind he was of course
unable to tell ; but, whatever she might do, there was now
no retreat for him. If Miss Jean became his wife, he
would have the satisfaction of redeeming a wrong for one
thing, and he would not have to blush for the good woman
he had chosen. Her middle-aged calm and propriety
indeed suited much better the role of wife, to his thinking,
than Katie's youthfulness and levity. He had not been
used to women, and they were no necessary part of his
life.

In the pre-occupation of his mind, Adam's fishing had
ceased to amuse him, and he did not want to meet Philip,
whose conduct in compromising Katie, our young man
highly disapproved of, even when he felt envious of his
happiness. When he went out, he turned his steps in the

3*

68 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

opposite direction, going up the river, past the spot at
which he had seen the lovers, and reaching, by that
detour through the wood, the park of Murkley, and the
neighbourhood of the great unfinished palace which had
made him first acquainted with the family history.

He thought of himself as another Castle of Murkley.
Sir Patrick had wronged his children for the sake of both ;
his generosity had been as rash as his ambition. He
had trained and formed his dependent for a life entirely
above his natural prospects, and, if he had- left Lewis in
the lurch, the case would have been an exact parallel
to that of the abandoned and uncompleted house. But
the old man had done more for love than he had done
for pride, and it was not the part of Lewis at least to blame
him that he had again wronged his family for the sake of
an impulse .of his own. But as he roamed round and
round this pale, half-ruined palace, with all its princely
avenues and foreign trees, a great tenderness arose in
the young man's heart for his old patron.

He was walking round this silent, shut-up, window-
less, and lifeless mansion, looking up at it with moisture
in his eyes, when the sound of voices suddenly made him
aware that he was not the only person thus occupied.
He heard them but vaguely from the other side — voices
in animated talk, but not near enough to hear what they
were saying. The voices were all feminine, and by and by
he made sure that they were the ladies of Murkley whom
he was about to meet. Presently three figures became
visible round the angle of the great house, one in advance
of the others, walking backward, with a form very unlike
that of Miss Margaret and Miss Jean, apparently gazing
up at the walls, a blue veil flying about her, her head raised,
her light figure lightly poised upon elastic feet, n^t like
the sober attitude of the ladies he knew. A momentary
wonder crossed the mind of Lewis as to this third sister,
whom he had never seen, but he was too much pre-occupied
to dwell upon it. He divined that there was a little
commotion among them at the sight of a stranger. He
heard Miss Margaret say something about a veil, and then
there came a protest in a voice full of complaining.

"Oh, Margaret, let my veil alone; there is no sun to
spoil anybody's complexion, is there, Jean ? "

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 69

Some word or sign, proceeding from one of the other
ladies, made the speaker turn round, and Lewis had a
momentary glimpse of a face which was very different
from that of the other sisters ; large, wondering eyes
darted one glance at him, then the unknown turned again
and hurried back to the group, dropping the blue veil in
her hurry and astonishment. It was only a moment,
and the sensation in Lewis's mind was not more than
surprise. The glimpse was momentary, his mind was pre-
occupied, and Miss Margaret advanced immediately to
meet him, covering the retreat of the others.

" You are looking at our grandfather's grand castle,"
Miss Margaret said.

" It is a wonderful place to find here, out in the wilder-
ness ; it is like a palace that has been walking about
and has lost its way," Lewis said, with an attempt to
cover the quickened movement of his own pulses in the
surprise of the encounter.

" I would not call this the wilderness," said Miss
Margaret, with a momentary tone of pique. " A great
deal of care was taken about the place before this great
barrack was built — it's more like a barrack, in my opinion,
than a palace."

" It is like the Louvre," said Lewis ; "it must have been
planned by someone who had travelled, who knew the
French renaissance." He felt a little jealous for the
credit of his old friend.

" Oh, as for that," Miss Margaret said, with a wave of
her hand, " knowledge was not wanting, nor taste either.
Our grandfather, Sir Patrick Murray, was a man of great
instruction : all the worse for his descendants. This is
how he wasted our substance — and in other ways."

Lewis suffered himself to be led round the further side
of the building, while she talked and pointed out the posi-
tion of the rooms. It was a moment full of excitement
for the young man ; he listened eagerly while she spoke
of Sir Patrick, with the strongest sense of that link between
them to which she had not the slightest clue. Nor had
he the slightest clue to the motive which induced her to
expatiate upon the building and lead him round by the
other side. The blue veil and the wondering, youthful
face it guarded had not done more as yet than touch his

3t

70 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

mind with a momentary suspicion ; his interest was
engaged, not in secret questionings about Lilias, as the
elder sister thought, but in recollections and associations
of a very different kind.

" Perhaps," he said, following out his own thoughts,
" had he waited and gone more softly there would have
been no imprudence."

" Waiting and going softly are not in our nature : no :
I'm but a woman, with little money, and very seriously
brought up — and with my youth past, and no motive ;
but if I were to let myself go — even now ! "

A sudden flush came over her face, her eyes shone,
and then Lewis perceived that Miss Margaret, if she had
not made up her mind to be elderly and homely, would
still be a handsome and imposing personage, whom the
society he had known would have admired and followed.
He thought' that if she had been Sir Patrick's companion
his salon might have been very different. With this view
he could not help gazing at her with a great curiosity,
wondering how she would have filled that place, and
thinking what a pity that this, which would have ruined
his own prospects, had not been.

She looked at him quickly, meeting his gaze, and her
eyes fell momentarily under it.

" You think me an old fool," she said, " and no
wonder. Imprudence — that is always folly when it takes
the power of beginning what you cannot finish — would be
worse folly than ever in a person like me ; but, you see,
I never let myself go."

" That is not what I was thinking," said Lewis. " I
was thinking- — wondering, though I had no right — why
you did not go to him when he was old."

"Go to him — to whom ? " she cried, astonished.

" Ah 1 pardon ! I have met Sir Patrick — abroad."

Miss Margaret turned upon him, and made a close and,
as Lewis thought, suspicious inspection of his face.

" If you met Sir Patrick abroad, you must have seen
that he had no need of his natural family, nor wish for
them. There was no place for us there. Perhaps you
have not heard that he withdrew his property from his
family and gave it to one that was not a drop's blood to
him — a creature that had stolen into a silly old man's

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 71

favour ? But no, that would not be known abroad,"
she added, with a long-drawn breath. Lewis felt himself
shrink from her eye ; he made a step backward, with a
sense of guilt which in all the many discussions of the
subject had never affected him before.

" No," he said, with an involuntary tone of apology,
" no, it was not known, I think, that he had — any rela-
tions "

Miss Margaret turned on him again with indignation
more scathing than before.

" Not known that he had relations ! " then she paused,
and gave vent to a little laugh, " that must have been by
persons who were very ignorant — by people out of society
themselves," she said.

To this Lewis made no reply. What could he say ?
It was true that he had no standing in society himself,
and he now perceived that he had been guilty of one of
his usual imprudences in drawing the attention of a mind
much more keen than Miss Jean's, and able to put things
together, to himself and his antecedents. After a moment
she resumed.

" I am speaking too strongly perhaps to you, a stranger.
It was not perhaps to be expected — abroad — that every-
body should know the Murrays of Murkley. That is
just one of the evils of that life abroad, that it is lost
sight of who you belong to. In your own country every-
body knows. If you put a friendly person in the place of
your flesh-and-blood, the whole country cries out ; but
among strangers, who thinks or cares ? No, no, I was
wrong there ; I ask your pardon. In Scotland, or even
in England, Sir Patrick Murray's relations would be as
well known as the Queen's, but not abroad — that was his
safeguard, and I forgot. Poor, silly old man 1 " Miss
Margaret said, after a pause, with energy, " he was little
to me. I have scarcely seen him all my days, and Lilias
never at all."

It seemed to Lewis that in this, perhaps, there was
some explanation and apology for the unfortunate position
of affairs ; but he was so glad to escape from further
questions that he did not attempt to follow the subject
further. They had by this time come round the other
corner of the building, and he perceived that the two other

72 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

ladies had not waited for Miss Margaret, but were already
half-way along the broad and well-kept drive which led
from the unfinished palace to the old house. The blue
veil fluttering in advance caught his eye, and he said,
more with the desire to divert his companion from the
previous subject than out of any special interest in this :

" Your sister, whom I have not seen, is the youngest ? "

Here Miss Margaret, with a little start, recalled herself
to a recollection which had temporarily dropped from her
mind. She fixed him with her eye.

" Yes, she is the youngest," she replied. And what of
that ? her tone seemed to say.

" I had made one of the ridiculous mistakes strangers
make," he said, very conciliatory, his reason for this being,
however, totally different from the one she attributed to
him. '•' I had supposed — you will say I had no right to
suppose anything, but one guesses and speculates in spite
of one's self — I had supposed that Miss Lilias was the
eldest, and in bad health ; whereas by the glimpse I had
she is "

" Quite young," said Miss Margaret, taking the words out
of his mouth — "that is, quite young in comparison with
Jean and me : but not so strong perhaps as might be
desired, and an anxious and careful charge to us. Are
you staying long here ? "

" That will depend upon — various matters," Lewis
said. " It is your sister Miss Jean whom I have had the
pleasure to see most. You will pardon me if I say to
you that I find a great attraction in her society. It is
presumptuous perhaps on my part, but it is thought right
where I have been brought up that one should say this

when it occurs, without delay, to the family "

Miss Margaret looked at him with eyes of unfeigned
astonishment.

" Say — what ? " she asked, pausing to survey him once
more. Was the young man out of his senses ? she said
to herself.

" I mean," said Lewis, with that smile with which he
assured everybody that he was anxious to please them,
" that in all other countries but England things are so.
The head of the family is consulted first before a man
will dare to speak to a lady ; I understand it is not so here."

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 73

" And you mean to speak to me as the head of the
family ? " said Miss Margaret. " Well, perhaps you are
not far wrong ; but my sister Jean and I are equals — there
is no superior between us. The only thing is, that being
a sweet and submissive creature, a better woman than I
will ever be, she leaves most things in my hands."

" That was my idea," Lewis said.

"And you wan ted -to speak to me of something that
concerned Jean ? Well, there could be to me no more
interesting subject ; though what a young man like you
that might be her son, and a stranger, can have to say
to me about Jean "

Lewis paused. He had not considered how awful it was
to confront tne keen, inquiring eyes of the head of the
family, who looked him, he thought, through and through,
and who, if he submitted his over-candid countenance for
long to her inspection, would probably end by reading
everything that was in him both what he meant to show
and what he wished to conceal.

" Perhaps," he said, " I am premature. What I would
have said was to ask if — I may come again ? What further
I wish will remain till later. If Miss Murray will afford
to me the happiness of coming, or recommending myself
so far as I can "

" You speak," said Miss Margaret, somewhat grimly,
and with a laugh, "as if you were wanting to come
wooing to our house. Now speak out, and tell me to
whom. I'll allow there's good in your foreign notions,
if you give me this warning ; and I will warn you
in your turn, my young friend."

" I hope you will pardon my ignorance, if I do wrong,"
said Lewis. "It is your sister, Miss Jean, whom I have
seen most. I have not known before such a woman.
There is to me a charm — which I cannot explain. If I
might see her — if it might be permitted to me to recom-
mend myself "

Miss Margaret had been gazing at him with eyes of
such astonishment that he was disconcerted by the look.
He came to a somewhat confused pause, and stood
silent before her, with something of the air of a culprit
on his trial. Then she cried out suddenly, " Jean ! "
and burst into a resounding laugh, which seemed to

74 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

roll forth over all the landscape, and return from the
tops of the trees. -There is no more crushing way of
receiving such a suggestion. The young man stood
before her, silent, his face flushed, his eyes cast down
for the moment. At length, being a sanguine youth, and
too entirely good-humoured himself to impute evil inten-
tions to anyone, he began to recover. He looked up at
her with a deprecating smile.

" I amuse you, it seems " he said.

"Amuse me!" said Miss Margaret, with another fcal
of laughter ; and then she dried her eyes, and recovered
her composure. " Mr. Murray — if your name is
Murray — " she said ; "if you mean this for a joke — but
I will not do you that injustice ; I see you mean it in
earnest. It is very unexpected. Do you think you have
had time enough to consider whether this is a wise resolu-
tion ? Do you remember that she is twice your age ?
No, no, I would not advise you to go that length," Miss
Margaret said.

" The question is, if you will forbid me," said Lewis ;
" if you will say I must not come."

" Ay ! And what would you do then ? "

" I think," he said, with a little hesitation, " I should
then adopt the English way. I should submit my cause
to your sister herself. But then there would be no decep-
tion, you would know."

He met her with such an open look that Miss Margaret
was disarmed.

" You are a strange young man," she said, " with a
strange taste for a young man : but I think you're honest :
or else you are a terrible deceiver — and, if your meaning
is what you say, you have no motive, that I can see, to
deceive."

" I have told you my motive," said Lewis. " I speak the
truth."

She looked at him again with her searching eyes,

" Perhaps you think we are rich ? " she said.

" I have heard, on the contrary, that "

She waved her hand. It was not necessary that he
should say poor.

Perhaps you think — but I cannot attempt to fathom
you," she said. "You are a very strange young man..

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 75

Jean ! have you considered that she's twice your age ?
I have no right to interfere. I will not forbid you the
house. But she will never take you, or any like you ;
she has more sense," Miss Margaret cried.

To this Lewis only answered with a bow and a smile,
in which perhaps there was something of the conqueror ;
for indeed it did not occur to him, as a contingency to be
taken into consideration, that she might refuse mm. They
walked on together for some time in silence, for Miss
Margaret was too much confused and excited to speak,
and Lewis had no more to say to her, feeling that it was
only justice to the sister he had chosen that she should
have the first and the best of the plea. It might be ten
minutes after, and they were in sight of the old house,
within which the two figures before them had disappeared,
when Miss Margaret suddenly stopped short, and turned
upon him with a very serious and indeed threatening
countenance.

" Young man," she said, in a low and passionate voice,
" if you should prove to be making a mask of my sister
for other designs, if it should be putting forward one to
veil a deeper design upon another, then look you to your-
self— for I'll neither forgive you, nor let you slip out of
my hands."

Lewis met this unexpected address with sincere
astonishment.

" Pardon me, but I do not know what deeper design I
could have. What is it that I could do to make you
angry ? " he said.

She looked at him once more from head to foot, as if his
shoes or the cut of his coat (which was. somewhat foreign)
could have enlightened her as to his real k motives ; and
then she said :

" I will take upon me to give you useful information.
In the mornings I am mostly occupied. You will find my
sister Jean by herself before one o'clock, and nobody to
interfere."

76 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER XII

IT was with a mixture of indignation and somewhat
grim humour that Miss Margaret gave the permission
and sanction to Lewis's addresses which have been above
recorded.

The purely comic light in which she had at first con-
templated the idea gradually changed into an angry appre-
ciation of the absurdity which seemed to involve her
sister too, and a lively desire to punish the offender.
That would be best done by giving him unlimited oppor-
tunity to compromise himself, she decided, and it was
with this vindictive meaning, and not anything "softer
or more friendly, that she had so pointedly indicated to
Lewis the best time and manner of approaching Miss
Jean. He partially divined the satire and fierce gleam
in her eyes, but only partially, for to him there was no
absurdity in the matter.

It was about noon next day when he set out for the
Castle ; and when he was shown into the drawing-room,
he found Miss Jean, as before, seated over her table-
cover, with all her silks arranged upon her table, and her
carnation in a glass being copied. She did not get up to
greet him, as she had done before. Even her old-
fashioned ideas of politeness, which were. more rigorous
than anything in the present day, yielded to the friendly
familiarity with which she was beginning to regard him.
She gave him her hand with a kind smile.

" This is very good of you, Mr. Murray," she said, " to
give up a bonny morning- to me;" her eyes went in-
stinctively to the piano as she spoke. This piqued Lewis
a very little ; but he loved music too well to disappoint
her.

" The finer the morning," he said, " the more congenial
it is to music." There was time enough to indulge himself
and her before beginning the serious business of the matter ,
between them, and indeed it was not even necessary that
there should be anything said upon that serious matter
to-day.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 77

" And that is true," said Miss Jean, fervently ; " the
evening perhaps is the best of all ; the fading of the day-
light, and the hushing of the world, and the coming on of
rest — that is beautiful with music. I like it in the dusk, I
like it in the dark, when ye can only hear, not see, and your
soul goes upon the sound. But I like it as well in the
day, in the brightness, in the middle of life, at all times ;
it is never out of season," she added, with an enthusiasm
which elevated her simple countenance.

Lewis felt a sensation of pride and happiness as he looked
at her. No one could say she was unworthy a man's
choice or affections. It would do him honour among all
who were qualified to judge that he had made such a
choice. Miss Jean was somewhat astonished by the way
in which he turned upon her. It half confused, half
pleased her.

And then he began to play. He chose Mozart after
their talk about the times and seasons. Lewis was not
naturally given to much exercise of the fancy, but he was
very sympathetic, and readily took his cue from any
mind which was congenial to him. He thought that the
splendour of this great composer was appropriate to the
richness and fulness of the noon. Themes more dreamy,
more visionary, more simply sweet would be the language
of the evening. And once more he watched, with an
interest and sympathy which he thought must be as nearly
like love as possible, the gradual forgetfulness of everything
but the music which came ovec Miss Jean. First her work
flagged, then she pushed away the carnation which she was
copying to one side, and let her table-cover drop on her
knees ; then she leant forward on the little table, her head
in her hands, her eyes fixed upon him ; then those eyes
filled with tears, and saw nothing, neither him nor any
accessory, but only a mystic world of sweetness and emo-
tion which she was utterly incapable of describing, but
which shone through her face with an eloquence which
was beyond words. Lewis, as he looked at her in this
ecstatic state, which he had the power of throwing her
into, knew very well that, though he was the performer
and she only the listener, the music was not half to him
what it was to her. It filled her soul, it carried her away
above the world, and all that was in it. When he paused

78 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

she sank back in her chair overwhelmed, unable to say
anything. He was fond of applause, but applause was not
necessary here.

" I wish/-* he said, rising, and coming towards her, full
of a genuine warmth and enthusiasm, " that I could play
to you for ever."

She did not speak for a little, but smiled, and dried her
soft eyes.

" No — no — that would be too much," she said.

" It would be too much to continue always, oh, yes — but
Jt do not mean that. To play to you whenever you pleased,
as often as you pleased ; when you wished to come out
of the common, to be happy ; for it makes you happy ? "

" I think it must be like Heaven,- said Miss Jean,
fervently ; " that is all I can think of — the skies opening,
and the angels singing. "

" That is beautiful," he cried, " to open Heaven. That
is what I should like to do for you — always. To have it
ready for you when you pleased."

" You have a kind heart," said Miss Jean ; " oh, you
have a kind heart. But, if it cannot be always,'1 she said,
with a tender smile, " you must just let it be as often as
you can, as long as you are here."

" I am going to stay here," said Lewis, " that is, if you
will let me."

" Me ! Let you ! But it is little I can have to do
with it ; and you may be sure I would let you — and kindly
welcome, kindly welcome," said Miss Jean, recovering
herself.

She was a little ashamed of feeling so deeply, but the
beauty of the music so completely occupied her mind that,
save as "a kind lad," she did not think of Lewis at
all.

" If you will make me welcome, then I will stay. It
depends upon you altogether ; I will stay or I will go away,
as you please. It is you that must decide," the young
man said.

He was standing on the other side of the little table, his
face lit up with the enthusiasm of sympathy and pleasure.
It was sweet to him to have made so profound an im-
pression, and the emotion in Miss Jean's mind reflected
itself in him, He admired her, he loved her for feeling so

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 79

much. It threw a tender light upon everything about her ;
there vras no effort wanting to look tenderly and speak
tenderly with all the emotion of a genuine sentiment. His
eyes glowed with softness and warmth, his voice took a
pleading tone, he was ready to have put himself at her
feet, actually as well as metaphorically, so much was he
touched and moved by this sympathetic strain of feeling.
Miss Jean, for her part, gathering her work into her hand,
and recovering herself slowly, looked up with eyes of
simple surprise at the extraordinary aspect of the young
stranger.

" You are meaning — ? to be sure, we will be very
glad, very happy to have you for a neighbour ; but,
knowing so little of the circumstances, how can we, that
are but strangers "-

They were both so pre-occupied that they had not heard
anything but the sound of their own voices, and, when
another suddenly interposed, they started as if a shot had
been fired beside them.

" Jean, Margaret sent me to tell you dinner was on the
table, " was the peaceful intimation this voice made.

Lewis turned round with a nervous impatience, finding
the interruption vexatious. He turned round and found
himself suddenly in a presence he had never been clearly
conscious of before. What was it ? To external appear-
ance a young, slight girl, fair as Scottish beauty ought to
be, with light locks just tinged here and there with the
brighter light which makes them golden, a complexion of
the most dazzling purity, eyes, somewhat astonished, of
deep blue, and features perhaps not equal in quality to
all the rest, but harmonious enough in their youth and,
softness. This was what she was in actual flesh and blood ;
but as she appeared to Lewis, at that moment actually
feeling, and with all his might endeavouring to impress
upon a middle-aged woman, the fervour of his devotion,
and his dependence upon her fiat, she was something more.
She was Youth in person, she was Love, and Hope, and
a sort of incarnate delight. He looked at her, and the
words he had been speaking died from his lips, the enthu-
siasm he had been feeling was blown out as if it had been
the flame of a candle. He forgot himself and good manners,
and his position as a stranger, and stood, his lips apart,

80 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

his eyes wide opened, gazing at her at once in amazement
and admiration.

Lilias looked at him too with much astonishment and
a good deal of curiosity. Was this the person whom
Margaret had suggested to be the man from Kilmorley
come to tune the piano ? Though she was a very docile
little girl, there were moments when she could be wilful.
She made Lewis a little curtsey, and gave him a smile
which went to his head like wine.

" And Margaret hopes the gentleman will come too/*
Lilias said.

" Oh ! " said Miss Jean with a tremor of conscience,
and a questioning look towards her little sister. Could it
be possible that Margaret — " I am sure," she said, " we will
all be pleased if you will come and eat something with
us ; it is our dinner, as we are only ladies, without a man
in the house ; but it will do for luncheon for you."

" If you will permit me," said Lewis, with that profound
bow which they all thought foreign.

He drew away from the little table, so as to leave Miss
Jean room to gather together her embroidery before she
rose from her chair, and waited, ready to follow the ladies.
The proposal was delightful to him. He did not pause to
ask whether the message had really come from Miss
Margaret ; he had none of Miss Jean's tremor. He thought
only that he was ready to follow this nymph, this vision,
to the end of the world if she pleased. Had he ever seen
anything so beautiful ? he asked himself ; and, as may
easily be supposed, said " No " with hasty readiness.
Lilias was in the perfection of youthful bloom and fresh-
ness, with the down upon her like a peach, untouched by
anything that could impair that dazzling, morning glory ,-
the dark old house, and the companionship of the two
sisters who in her presence became old and faded, threw
up her bloom all the more, and so did her simple frock, the
girlish fashion of her hair, her school-room apron, her
position as Margaret's messenger.

" Come along, then," she said, lightly, and ran off in
advance.

Lewis offered his arm to Miss Jean. She was very
nervous, he thought, because of what he had been saying
to her — but Miss Jean had by no means taken up, as he

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 81

meant them, the things he had been saying to her, and was
nervous because of her doubt whether Margaret really
meant this invitation. What if it was a sudden thought
of Lilias alone ? The girl did wicked things now and then
of this sort, little rebellions " in fun," audacities which
sometimes vexed Margaret. But Miss Jean's instincts.
of hospitality would have tempted her, even without this
proceeding on the part of Lilias, to invite her visitor,
towards whom she felt kindly. She put her arm within
his with a little tremor ; and Lewis felt the quiver, and
thought that he had been successful in his suit. He pressed
her hand softly against his side. Though he had been
so startled, shaken out of his previous thoughts by this
sudden apparition, yet it did not occur to him to be un-
faithful. Nothing yet occurred to him except that here
was a new thing, a new glory and beauty returned into life.
This fairy creature glided out of the room before them,
ran downstairs like a ray of sunshine, making the dark old
oak staircase bright, and darted in at the open door of
the dining-room, where she evidently announced their
coming with a laugh. The laugh made Lewis smile in
sympathy, but it made Miss Jean tremble, for it proved
that her alarm was justified, and so did the sudden, startled
sound of Miss Margaret's deeper voice. What Lilias said
was, with that laugh,

" Margaret, I have asked the music man to come too.'-'
" The music man ! He is no music man," cried Miss
Margaret, and then she said, " Quick, Simon, quick, lay
another place. " There was no time for further explanations
now.

Lewis thought this meal was the most delightful he had
ever eaten in his life. The two elder sisters sat at the head
and foot of the table, and opposite to him was Lilias, with.
a little flush of triumph in her face, and a mischievous
smile about the corners of her mouth. She did not talk
very much, and to him not at all. The other ladies main-
tained the conversation chiefly between them. For his
own part he was content to say very little, to confine
himself to replying when they spoke to him, and listening
eagerly to their talk ; and watching the beautiful girl
whom he could not raise his eyes without seeing, and whose
glance he met now and then with something of the free-

82 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

masonry of youth. He did not know her, nor she him,
while he was acquainted with both the other ladies, and
felt himself already in a position of intimacy and sym-
pathetic friendship, if no more, with Miss Jean ; but yet
instinctively, and in a moment, they two, he felt, con-
stituted a faction, a party, youth against age.

While the elders talked, she would shoot a little glance
at him across the table, a glimmer of a smile would go
over her face, in which there was an appeal to him for an
answering smile ; a sort of unconscious telegraph of mutual
understanding was set up between them. When Miss
Margaret questioned him, he replied with a look to Lilias
first to see if she were listening. When she spoke, though
it was only a monosyllable, he paused to listen. After,
when it was over, the whole scene appeared to him like a
dream ; the dark wainscot of the room, with the bloom of
that young face against it, Miss Margaret against the
light, Miss Jean, with her sweet but faded face in the full
illumination of the window, old Simon making slow circles
round the table. His own heart was beating with pleasure,
with suspense, with excitement, the feeling that something
had happened to him, something new which he scarcely
understood. He did not realize that he had been sud-
denly stopped in his love-making to Miss Jean by this
apparition, nor that it had taken from him all desire to
carry on that love-making. Indeed, his mind had not
taken in the new occurrence at all ; he was still in this
state of sensation, knowing that here was a new event
which had suddenly happened to him, but not knowing
what it was.

CHAPTER XIII

LEWIS left the Castle like a man in a dream. There
was an intoxication about him which affected his whole
being vaguely, as actual intoxication might do, in which
there was not the slightest self-reproach or sense of doing
wrong.

He sped along the lonely road in a totally different

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 83

direction from that he was acquainted with, till he had
entirely lost himself and worn himself out, which [perhaps
in the circumstances was as wise a thing as he could have
done. For his mind was agitated with a wonderful
variety of new thoughts. He became aware of what
that lovely figure was which had glided across his vision,
and in a moment swept everything else out of his thoughts.
She was more than youth, more than mere beauty and
brightness. She was love.

All this went through his mind as he walked mile after
mile, always trying a new direction, always failing to
recover his ground, or come near any landmark he knew.
The sun had been long set, and in any other but these
northern skies night would have set in, when he found
himself at last approaching the village. He could see
that there was a little commotion in the street as he came
along, sadly weary and dusty, and beginning to come
down from those celestial circles of the imagination, and
to remember that he was very hungry, and had not dined.
A little group of children broke up and dashed down the
road in front of him towards the " Murkley Arms.4*

" Eh, yonder he's coming I " they cried.

Janet, with a very anxious countenance, was standing
in the doorway.

" Oh, sir,- she said, " is that you ? And what has
keepit ye frae your dinner ? We have had a maist
anxious night looking out for ye, and wondering what
could have happened. Adam's away doun to the water-
side, and I've sent to the manse and the Castle, and every
place I could think of, we were that alarmed."

" Why should you be alarmed ? " said Lewis. " The
fact is, I lost my way."

" I'm real glad to see it's nae waur," said Janet.
" There's been ane here frae Kilmorley keen, keen to see
ye. It was just the writer's clerk, and that gied us a
fright ; and he didna seem that sure about your name, and
he said he had instructions just to bide and no to leave till
he had seen ye. But I sent him away with a flea in his
lug," said Janet. " I said you were just real respect-
able, as we ve found you, sir, and one of the Murrays,
kent folk, and taken a hantle notice of by the Murkley
ladies, and how daured he come here to set your friends

84 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

against ye ? But for a' that I got a terrible fright, Mr.
Murray. I thought maybe ye had got wit o' his coming,
and had just slippit away, and we would never have heard
tell of ye again."

" Why should I slip away ? " cried Lewis, astonished,
his conviction of innocence being too strong to permit him
to entertain at the moment any alarm as to the conse-
quences that might follow if he were found to have pre-
sented himself under a name which was not his own.

Janet gave him a confused, repentant, yet penetrating
look.

" Deed, I canna tell," she said, somewhat abashed ;
" " but how was I to ken that there mightna be reasons,
and the man so awfu' curious about you, and him the
writer's clerk ? Gentlemen are whiles overtaken, just the
same as poor folk."

" I see — a lawyer of some sort. You thought I was
perhaps running away from my creditors," Lewis said,
with a laugli.

Janet gave him a guilty glance. " Mony a grand
gentleman has done that, and lived to pay them a' to the
last farden, and never been a preen the waur."

Lewis laughed till all the attendant children, who had
been looking on, waiting for the penny promised them for
intimating his approach, laughed too in sympathy.

" I owe you more than I owe anybody else," he said ;
" but we'll talk of that after dinner, for I'm famishing
now.'4

CHAPTER XIV

LEWIS woke up next morning a different man. His light-
hearted youth and easy views had gone from him. The
musings of the night had only showed him the position
in which he was, without showing him any way out of it.
He had all but • pledged himself to one woman, placed
himself at her disposal ; and his heart had gone out to
another. He felt that life would not be worth living, nor
the world have any charm for him, unless he could secure
Lilias as the companion of his existence. Yet at the same

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 85

time he recognised that it was the sister of Lilias to
whom so lightly, thinking, as it now seemed, nothing of
it, he had offered that life as he might have offered a
flower. Was there ever a more terrible dilemma for a
young man ? And he had not found it out at first.

Lewis woke to a sense, no longer of a world enhanced,
and made infinitely sweeter and fairer, by the presence
in it of a creature more beautiful and delightful than he had
ever before dreamt of, but of a universe which had gone
suddenly out of joint, where the possibilities of blessedness
were counteracted by malign influences, and fate took
pleasure in turning happiness into trouble : one way and
another the calmly smiling day, the happy commonplace,
the matter-of-course existence had come to an end for him.
It was very summary and very complete. It seemed to
Lewis that he had good reason to complain. To be sure,
he did not very well know against whom his complaint
could be directed, but he felt it all the same.

He was late of getting up ; he was slow to go out ; he
did not care what he did with himself ; sometimes his
impulse was to hurry to the Castle, to take advantage
as long as he could of the permission which certainly had
been given him, on the mere chance of perhaps seeing her
again. But what was the use of seeing her ? It was to
Miss Jean his visit would have to be made. It was she
who had been the aim of his devotion ; and at that thought
Lewis laid down the hat which he had snatched up, and
threw himself in despair upon his seat.

He was still in this uncertain condition, walking to the
window now and then, looking out vaguely, pacing about
the room, pausing to look at himself in the dingy mirror
on the mantelpiece, taking up his hat and putting it down
again, not able to decide what he should do, when his
attention was caught by the sound of steps coming up the
stairs, and the voice of Janet directing some one to come
" This way, sir, this way."

"Our young gentleman took, a walk yestereen, ower
long, and lost his way, so he's no out this morning, which
is just very lucky," Janet was saying.

Lewis threw down his hat with an impatient exclamation.
Janet opened the door, and put her head in first with a
certain caution.

86 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" This' 11 be yon gentleman," she said, and made a sort
of interrogative pause, as much as to say no one should
enter did Lewis disapprove. Then she opened the door
wider, and added, " A gentleman to see you, Mr. Murray,"
in a louder voice.

To say that Janet paused after this for a moment to
satisfy herself what sort of greeting passed between them,
and whether or not she had done well to introduce the
stranger, is scarcely necessary. She stood with the door
in her hand, and the most sympathetic curiosity in her
mind : but when she saw the new-comer hurry forward
with a sort of chuckling laugh, holding out his hand and
exclaiming, in familiar accents, " So this is you ! It was
just borne in upon me that it must be you," Janet with-
drew well pleased.

But if his humble friends were consoled, Lewis was taken
entirely by surprise. He said, " Mr. Allenerly ! " in a tone
between astonishment and dismay.

"It is just me," said the lawyer, " and I had a moral
conviction it was you I should find, though no one knew
the name of Grantley "

" Hush ! " cried Lewis in alarm, raising his hand.

"It is not a nice thing in any circumstances," said the
new-comer, " for a man to disown his own name."

There was an impulse of anger in Lewis' mind not at all
natural to him.

"It is with no evil intention, and it is no case of dis-
owning my name. My kind god-father, my patron —
you are free to call him what you will — wished it to be so.
I have adopted his suggestion, that is all."

" But here, of all places in the world ! " cried Mr. Allenerly
— •" it is the imprudence I am thinking of. You have a
good right to it, if you please — but here ! Have they not
put you through your catechism to know what Murrays
you were of ? That would be the first thing they would
do "

" Miss Margaret has done so, I allow."

" Miss Margaret ! By my conscience, you have got
far ben already ! And she never found you out ? and you
have got footing there ? "

A pleasurable sense of success soothed the exasperation
and pain in the young man's mind.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 87

" It was for that I came here," he said.

" I just guessed as much. I said to my wife, ' He's of
the romantic sort ; he'll be after little Lilias, take my
word for it, as soon as he hears of her existence.' And so
you've done it ! Well, Mr. Murray, if that's what I am
to call you, I congratulate you — that is, if you get clear of
Miss Margaret. She's grand at a cross-examination, as
I have good reason to know. If you satisfied her "

" I think I satisfied her — I go there — I was going now,
if you had not come," said Lewis, playing with his hat,
which was on the table. It seemed to him that to get rid
of this visitor was the best, and, indeed, only thing he
wished for. " After little Lilias ! " The words rang and
tingled through his head ; he did not wish to be asked any
questions, for already he felt as if his countenance must
betray him ; he could not laugh as his visitor did. It was
impossible for him even to respond with a smile. And
that fixed gravity was something which had never before
been seen on Lewis's face.

Mr. Allenerly cast a curious look upon him, and then he
in turn put down his hat upon the table and drew forward
a chair.

" You have made your way in what seems a surprising
manner," he said, " but you do not seem very cheery
about it. You will excuse me if I am pressing — it is a thing
I should have been keen to push on, if I had not known
that things of this kind must come of themselves ; and,
if you will pardon me for saying so, I wanted to know
more of you before I would have put you in the way of
Miss Lilias, poor thing. She is very young, and the first
that comes has a great chance with a young girl. But her
sisters have very high notions ; they are ambitious for
her, I have always heard, and whether they would have
the sense to see that a bird in the hand is worth two, or
any number, in the bush "

" I cannot let you continue in a mistake," said Lewis,
pale and grave. "It is not as you think ; the thing is
different "

He paused, and Mr. Allenerly paused too, and looked at
him with a doubtful air.

" Do you mean," he said, " to tell me that you, a young
man from foreign parts, that knows neither England nor

88 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

Scotland — a young man that is your own master, going
where you please — do you mean to say that you come here
to a small Scotch village, and settle down in a country
public-house (for it's little better) for weeks with no object ?
I have a respect for you, Mr. Grantley, but I cannot
swallow that."

" I did not say so," said Lewis, with a gravity that was
exaggerated, and full of the dignified superiority of offended
youth ; but he could not defend himself from those impulses
of imprudence which were natural to him "It is not
necessary, I suppose," he said, " that my object should be
exactly as you have stated. There are three sisters — - — '

Mr. Allenerly made no reply at first, but gazed at him
with astonished eyes. Then he suddenly burst into a peal
of laughter.

" This is too good a joke," he said, " you rogue, you
deceiver ! Do you think it's a fair thing to play off your
fun upon your man of business ? None o' that — none o'
that ! No, but that's the best joke I've heard this year
or more. I must tell my wife of that. There's three
sisters, says he ! Lord ! but that beats all."

" I am at a loss," said Lewis, more dignified than ever,
" to understand the cause of your mirth ; but, when you
have had it out, perhaps you will let me inform you of
the real state of affairs."

" That is just what I am ready to do," the lawyer said,
in his turn offended, " more than ready. The ladies are
my clients, Mr.

" It was my god-father's desire that my name should be
Murray."

" Then Murray be it ! " cried the writer, with vehe-
mence. " What have I to do with your name ? If it
comes to that, ye may call yourself royal Stuart, or Louis
XVI., or anything ye please, for me."

"Don't let us quarrel, Mr. Allenerly; you have been
very kind to me," said Lewis, suddenly struck with the
absurdity of this discussion. He laughed as he held out
his hand. " Come," he said, " do not be so hot, and I will
tell you. But why should you laugh ? I have paid my
court to the second of the two sisters. She is a lady whom
I respect very much. She is sweet and good. A laugh
I cannot endure upon her account. I have endeavoured

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 89

to do what I could to please her. I hope I may have —
a little — succeeded," Lewis said. The supernatural gravity
and dignity had gone out of his face ; instead of these
there came a smile which had some pathos in it. There
was a slight quiver in his sensitive mouth. It was not
vanity, but a certain sorrowful pleasure, a sort of com-
passionate satisfaction which was in the smile ; it checked
the lawyer's laugh more effectually than any big words
could have done. But he looked with great and growing
surprise into the young man's face.

" Miss Jean ? " he said, almost timidly, with a sudden
sense of something that lay behind.

" Miss Jean," Lewis said, with a little affirmative nod
several times repeated. " She loves music very much.
She has a fine and tender soul. I think no one knows
what she is. They think her only gentle and weak."

" That is true — that is true. She is a good woman ;
but "

" I will confess to you," said Lewis, " I heard that there
were three, and it troubled me. I had thought there
would be one who was the heir after your English way.
I was in much trouble what to do. Then it was evident
that this good Miss Jean was she whom I could have most
access to, and I loved her on account of the music ; but I did
not know," he added, ingenuously, with a sigh, " I will
acknowledge it to you — I did not know that the other
lady was young ; I did not know she was — what I found
her yesterday. Ah ! I saw her only yesterday for the first
time?'

Mr. Allenerly, who had jumped up in great interest and
excitement, and had been pacing about the room all this
time, here came up to Lewis and struck him on the shoulder.

" You are neither Scotch nor English," he said, " but
you're a fine fellow ; I would say that before the world.
You came here to restore the money to them in a real
generous way without thinking of yourself ; but cheer up,
my lad ! Miss Jean has nothing to do with it. It is
Lilias that is the heir. What do I mean ? I will soon
tell you what I mean. Margaret and Jean have a small
estate in the south country that was their mother's. They
have nothing to do with Murkley. Boys are always
looked for, and little thought was taken for them. But

go IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

when the general married his second wife, the Castle and
a bit of the old land, too little, far too little, was put in
the marriage settlement — and Lilias is the heir of that —
Lilias the little one, the young one, the bonnie one. You
are in greater luck than you thought."

" Then it will be no restoration at all," said Lewis, his
face growing longer and paler with disappointment and
dismay.

" Not if you persevere in your present fancy — but that
is just nonsense — you must turn your thoughts into
another channel."

" You speak," said Lewis, " as if one's thoughts were like
a stream of water. That is not to be considered at all ;
it is too late."

" Then it is all settled Has Miss Jean — the Lord

preserve us, — accepted ye ? " Mr. Allenerly said.

" Does that matter ? " said Lewis. " I have laid my
homage at her feet ; it is for her to take, if she will."

" But " cried the lawyer, in dismay, " don't ye see

that all will be spoiled ? that your very purpose will be
balked — that everything will go wrong ? If it is not
settled beyond remedy, you must just do what many a
man has done before. You must draw back before it is
too late "

" Draw back — and leave a lady insulted You

forget " — the young man spoke with much dignity —
" that, though I am not a Murray, I am a gentleman,"
Lewis said.

CHAPTER XV

GENERAL MURRAY, the only son of Sir Patrick, had, like his
father before him, married at a very early age, so that
his eldest daughter was not more than twenty-two years
younger than himself, and he was, when he married for
the second time a wife younger than Margaret, a man
but little over forty, in the prime of his life and strength,
as handsome as he had ever been, and attractive enough
to take any girl's fancy. The second wife had been poor,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 91

but she had been noble, and the entail of the old hereditary
estate, upon which stood at once the old Castle and the
new unfinished palace, was broken in order that it might be
secured to the children of Lady Lilias, whether sons or
daughters. Who could doubt that so young and blooming
a bride, out of a well-conditioned family, would bring both
in abundant measure to the old house ? Margaret and
Jean, the two daughters of the first marriage, were left
in the south country in possession of their mother's little
estate when their father began life for the second time.
They felt themselves a little injured, shut out of their
natural rights, as was natural, and held themselves aloof
from the new manage, which was established joyously
in the old Castle with every augury of happiness. But
when, no more than a year after, the blooming young wife
was carried to the churchyard, and a second poor little
Lilias left in her stead, the two sisters flew, with many a
compunction and self-reproach, to the infant's cradle.
Margaret especially, who, though she was young, was
already disposed to believe that everything went wrong
when she was absent, reproached herself bitterly for not
being on the spot to watch over her father's wife. It
would not have happened had she been there, she felt
convinced, and this perfectly visionary self-blame no doubt
helped to give a certain bias to her already peculiar charac-
ter. " I must do my best for the daughter. I did not
do it for the mother," she acquired a habit of saying when
any other career was suggested to her. She did, not feel
quite sure that she was not her father's elder sister, so
confusing were their relations. He was broken down with
grief and disappointment, and she took charge of him at
once, and of his home. It would perhaps be going too
far to say that this was the reason why she did not marry.
Had any great love arisen in her heart, no doubt Margaret
would, like other people, have considered it her duty to
obey its dictates ; but, when suitors- to whom she was
indifferent came, Miss Murray metaphorically pushed
them aside out of her path, with a curt intimation that
she had no time to think of such nonsense. Miss Jean,
who was of a sentimental turn, had not so easily escaped
the common dangers of youth, but she did so in a more
romantic way, poor lady, by loving, unfortunately, a

92 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

young hero who had not a penny, and who died in an
obscure Indian battle when she was a little more than
twenty. This was shortly after the time when the infant
Lilias was thrown upon her sister's hands, and it was enough
to determine the celibacy of the gentle young woman,
who was indeed an old maid born : an old maid more
tender and indulgent than any mother, an old maid who
is still young, and can enter into the troubles of childhood
and youth not only by recollection of her own, but in the
sense of actual understanding and fellowship as one who
had herself never thrown quite behind her the state of
youth or even childhood. The more perfectly developed
are apt to smile at this arrested being, but there is nothing
in the world more delightful, tender, and sweet.

Between these two, Lilias' childhood had been passed.
Her father was less at home than ever after this destruction
of his hopes. He held some military appointments, and
saw a good deal of service. In the intervals, when he
returned to Scotland, his young daughter adored and
made a playmate of him, his elder daughter kept him in
order. Never was a man taken better care of ; when the
breach with Sir Patrick happened, the ladies stood by
him with all the determined partisanship of women. He
was living with them then on their little estate of the
south, in the little feminine house called Gowanbrae, which
had been their mother's, and where they had taken the
baby after her mother's death. So long as they had that
independent house, which they preferred, what was the
Castle of Murkley to them ? When Sir Patrick died, they
" come north." as they expressed it, with the general, to
show Lilias her home, and to acquaint her at first hand
with those glories of the family which they pretended to
scorn, but were in reality very proud of.

The general thought his lily perfect, whatever she pleased
to do, and the girl knew this very well, and had a little
disdain for his judgment, though she adored himself. She
had thus grown already into an independent creature,
with a judgment of her own, bringing them all secretly to
the bar, and forming her opinion in a way which bewildered
these elder people who had brought her up. The house-
hold on the whole was unanimous enough in the worship
of Lilias. As for their father, he was something of a.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 93

trouble to the ladies. The sense that he was a gentleman,
a being she understood but imperfectly, gave Miss Jean a
certain embarrassment in his presence. She played all
her music to him with a wondering doubt, which she never
solved, as to whether he liked it, or if it was a bore to him,
and felt that papa was far younger than herself, and that
there was no telling with so handsome a man what was
the next step he might take. Margaret felt him with
still more force to be he* junior, and kept his house much
as she might have done for a widowed nephew — that
was the kind of relationship which would have been natural
between them. They sometimes speculated between
themselves whether there was any chance that he might
marry again. He was only sixty, very young-looking, in
reality very young ; as active as he had ever been, a
man who could ride all day, and, if need were, dance all
night as if he had been twenty.

The subject of these questions solved them all very
summarily one winter evening by dying. He had not been
ill. He had a slight cold — that, and nothing more. He
had taken a hot drink to please Margaret, and had put
his feet in hot water when he went to rest. But the next
morning he was found dead in his bed. It was a very great
shock to his children ; but perhaps, when the shock was
over, Margaret and Jean felt, though they would have
thought it dreadful to say so, that an embarrassing charge
was removed from them, and that perhaps it was for the
best.

As for Lilias, she did not want anything to take off her
thoughts. For three months nearly she cultivated every-
thing that could make her think of him, and keep up the
sombre current. She retired to her own room, and would
stay there for hours, weeping, and keeping herself in the
atmosphere of affliction. At the end of that time the
monotony of sorrow began to press severely upon her
young mind, and she was glad to take to her lessons for
a change ; and thus gradually it came about that she
grew light-hearted again by unnoticed stages.

And so time went on, and the summer came back again,
and happiness returned to the girl's heart. The bond
of subjection to her sisters was drawn a little closer, but
it was so tender a tyranny that she never resented it. It

94 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

was a little hard, indeed, to be shut out from all the inno-
cent little parties at which Katie Seton figured, who was
younger than she ; but then there was that reserved for
her which would never be in Katie Seton's power. And
when the clouds of grief had blown away from her sky
and she began to realize herself as the lady of Murkley,
it cannot be denied that there was many a nutter in the
heart of Lilias. Had Murkley been the great estate it
ought to have been, and had she been a rich heiress, she
probably would not have been half so much in love with
her own position. There was a romance in it that charmed
the imagination. It gave Lilias unbounded material for
dreams, and it gave her a youthful visionary dignity,
which, perhaps, had it been analyzed, would have been
found to be a little absurd by close critics, but which was
very pretty -in the girl, who was so perfectly sincere in
her fancy. She formed endless plans as to what she was
to do with that romantic palace, which was hers, yet
which was nobody's.

CHAPTER XVI

HER sisters were as great visionaries in the concerns of
Lilias as she was herself, but in a different way. But the
new castle of Murkley had taken hold of their imaginations
as of their little sister's. It was their grandfather's folly
which they had condemned all this time, but they were
but women when all is said, and the sight of it had an
effect upon their fancy which contradicted reason. Nothing
could be more absurd, or even wicked, than to weight an
old Scotch, almost Highland, estate in that ridiculous
way, even if the money of the family had not been separated
from it, which was the climax of all. But at the same
time, if that grand house, that palace, could ever have
been inhabited, what glory to the race, what illustration
to the name of Murray ! Margaret, to whom her young
sister was as the apple of her eye, beheld in imagination
Lilias the queen of that noble and beautiful place, sweeping
through the fine suites of rooms, entertaining all the great

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 95

people. To see anything so young, and slight, and ethereal
the mistress of all this would be so pretty, so touching,
would appeal to all hearts. Thus if the girl had her dreams,
the elder sister was not far behind ; and Margaret had
no less warmth of imagination at forty than Lilias had at
seventeen. They were both possessed by one master
thought, though in a different way. Margaret all the
time would scoff at New Murkley, and call it a great ruckle
of stones, and wonder what Sir Patrick could be thinking
when he planned it.

" He never could have lived in it," she would say.
" Twenty servants would never be known in it ; and to keep
up a place like that on a limited income w6uld just be
purgatory, or worse."

" I wish we were rich,- Lilias would say. " I would
soon show you if it was a ruckle of stones. It is a beautiful
palace ! If there was glass in all the windows, and satin
curtains, and grand carved chairs, and a grand gentleman,
quite different from Simon, to open the door "

" And a pumpkin coach, and a cat for the coachman,
and two fine mice with good long tails for the footmen
behind the carriage, to carry Cinderella off to the ball,'1
Margaret would say, grimly.

Upon which Jean would step in and interpose.

" Dear Margaret, you must not abash her in her bit little
fancies ! Dear me, why should she not live to make some-
thing of it ? It would make a grand hospital. To give
our fine air, and quiet, and healing to poor sick folk would
be a fine thing to do : and you would get a blessing with the
rest."

" A hospital ! " cried Lilias, in dismay ; and then a
flush of shame flew over her to think she had never thought
of that. She flung her arms about her sister and gave her a
kiss. "It is you that think of the best things," she said,
and remembered what Margaret had said about the one
who was unspotted from the world.

This Jean took very sedately, not seeing anything won-
derful in it, and would then enter into details which chilled
both the elder -and the younger dreamer. Nevertheless,
when Lilias was at church, or when she was pensive, or
when she grew tired of inventing and wanted something
more definite, she turned back to this idea of the hospital

96 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

with a slightly subdued sense of power. If she should
be intended by Providence to live like Margaret and Jean
all her life, which was perhaps a somewhat depressing idea
notwithstanding her love and admiration for her sisters —
why, then there was this idea to fall back upon. She would
make it a hospital. She would become a benefactor of
her kind ; she would devote herself to it like a sister of
charity. There were moods and moments when this
was a thing which pleased the imagination of the dreaming
girl. But Margaret rejected the hospital with disdain and
almost anger. She took Jean to task for the suggestion
when they were alone.

"Can yo'u not see," she said, "that to put Quixotic
fancies into a young head is just criminal ? They come
quick enough of themselves. Next to having everything
your heart can desire, what's so enticing as to give up
everything at her age ? You have never grown any older
or any wiser yourself, my dear. I know that well enough,
and I like you, perhaps, all the better. But Lilias is not
like us. She is Murray of Murkley. If it had been me at
her age, my word but I would have made you all stand
about ! But it's better as it is. She will marry, which
most likely I never would have done, for I'm perhaps too
much of a man myself to be troubled with gentlemen.
She'll marry and raise up the old house."

To this Jean consented plaintively, yet with a little
excitement.

" But who will she marry ? " Jean asked ; " and, if she
were married to-morrow, where are they to get the money to
restore New Murkley ? He would be for selling it, far
more likely. "

Margaret had often been made to perceive before this
that Jean, though she was not clever, by dint of approaching
a new subject simply from a natural point of view, often
threw unexpected light upon it. This was the case
now. A burst or flood of illumination of the most
disagreeable kind suddenly burst upon her with these
words.

" Sell it ! '-' she cried, with a kind of horror — " bless me 1
I never thought of that."

" Or suppose it was some person from England, that
would think nothing of spending thousands "

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 97

This was how Miss Jean always spoilt a point when
she had made one. Her sister laughed.

" No person from England would spend thousands on
what was not his own. As for letting it, that's out of the
question in its present state. But there's truth in what
you say. A man might want to sell it rather than be at
the expense of finishing it. I'm glad you've put me
upon my guard, for that must not be. You see," said
Margaret, feeling a relief in explaining herself now that
the question was broached, " as Lilias is sure to marry,
my mind has been greatly exercised upon the subject.
She must not marry just the first comer." .

" If the first comer was the man that took her heart,

poor thing " said Jean. Her face, always so soft, grew

softer at the touch of this sympathetic emotion. Lilias,
who had been a child hitherto, suddenly appeared to
her in a new light. It had been her own experience that
the first comer was the hero.

" We must take care of her heart,"- said Margaret,
curtly. " I will have her betrayed into no sentiment.
He must satisfy me before I will let her so much as think
of him. No, I'm not a mercenary person ; for myself or
you I would never have thought twice. Had I been a
marrying woman myself, I would just have followed the
drum as soon as anything else, and kept my man on his
Pay.'1

Jean did not say anything, but there came a little
moisture into the corners of her eyes, and her hands clasped
each other with that clasp which is eloquent, which tells
of renunciation, yet of the sense of what might have been.
And a sudden remorse overwhelmed her sister.

" I am just like a brute beast," she cried, " with no
feeling in me. But Lilias, you will see, my dear, is different.
The family depends upon her. She must marry, not for
money — the Lord forbid ! — but he must have plenty. I will
insist upon that. I would not give her to a man that
was nobody, or that was vulgar or beneath her, or that was
old, or with any imperfection, not for all the gold that
ever came out of the bowels of the earth. He must be a
fine fellow in himself, or he shall not have Lilias ; but
he must have a good fortune too."

Jean looked at her sister with a little shake o± her head.

98 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

"It would be far better," she said ; " but you never
can be certain of anything. She will make her own choice,
Margaret, without thinking of either you or me."

" She cannot make her choice till she sees somebody
to choose from,'' said Margaret, " and that will be my
business. She shall see nobody that would not answer.
I take that in hand.-

Jean still shook her gentle head. She remembered
very well where she had first seen her lieutenant — on St.
Mary's Loch with a party of strangers. It was as un-
expected as if he had dropped from the skies. In this
respect she had an experience of which Margaret was
destitute.

" How can you guard against accident ? "- she said.
" She might see somebody — out of the window. You
never can tell how these things may happen."

" There is no such thing as accident," said Margaret,
with equal assurance and rashness. Was there ever a
more foolhardy speech ? " For those that keep their
eyes about them as I will do, the things that can happen are
always foreseen. Whom could she see out of the window ?
A tourist ! Do you think our Lilias is likely to lose her
heart to a tourist ? No, no, there will be no risks run.
I know all that is at stake. She shall see nobody that
would not do."

Jean shook her head still : but she said, with humility :
" You are far wiser than I am, and have more sense, and
understand the world "

" But you think you know better than I do all the same ?
That's very natural. In ordinary cases you would be
right, and, if anybody said to me what I'm saying to you,
I would think as you do. I would think there's a bragging
idiot that knows nothing about human nature. But
then I know what I'm capable of myself. Oh ! you may
shake your head, but there are not many that can watch
over their children as I will watch over Lilias. Mothers
have divided interests ; they have their husbands to
consider, and other bairns to distract them. You, my
bonnie Jean, you had nobody at all to look after you, for
I was not old enough."

" I am glad I had nobody to look after me, Margaret."

" I know that. You are glad of your heart-break, you

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 99

innocent creature. We'll say nothing about that. But
you would not like Lilias to have the same ? Well, I
will not brag — but if care and watching can find the right

man, and bring him forward and no other You

don't know, Jean,-' said Margaret, abruptly, with a little
broken laugh, which was her symbol of emotion, " what
that bit creature is to me. She is just the apple of my
eye."

" And to me too," Jean said : but so low that perhaps
her sister, being moved beyond her wont, did not hear.
For Miss Jean had the tenderest delicacy of soul, and
would not put forth any claim that might have seemed
to detract from the pre-eminence of Margaret's.

Margaret, meanwhile, cast her eyes about her. Nobody
in the neighbourhood was at all admissible. They were
indeed dangers in her way, and nothing else. The idea
of Philip Stormont made her blood run cold. A long-
legged lad, with his mother's jointure to pay, and next
to nothing besides. That he should be brought within
sight of Lilias, or any like him, was mortal peril : and
she knew that Philip was just the kind of well- looking
hound (as she said) who might take a young girl's fancy. It
was this, as much as concern for her complexion, which made
.her impose upon Lilias that blue veil : and it was this
which made her so sternly determined never to take her
little sister to any of the parties at the manse, where such
dangers were likely to abound.

She avoided skilfully any explanation on this subject,
but the natural objections of Lilias to being left behind
were not to be got rid of without an equivalent. It was in
this difficulty that Margaret had propounded the scheme
which had been developing in her mind, and placed before
the dazzled eyes of Lilias the glorious prospect which has
been already referred to. That she should be taken to
London, presented at court, and see society at its fountain-
head, had been a prospect which took away the girl's
breath, and made Jean's blood run cold. Such a privilege
had not been possessed by either of the elder sisters. But
then neither of them had been the reigning Murray of
Murkley, the heiress and representative of the family. The
little complaints to which the young creature had been
tempted to give vent were all silenced by this expedient ;

4*

ioo IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

how could she complain when this was the cause of her
seclusion, when she was debarred from the little country
amusements only that she should have those great and
noble ones, and enter the world like a heroine, like a great
lady ? Lilias had been filled with awe at the prospect, as
well as with delight and pride. She had not said a word
more about Katie Seton and the little festivities at the
manse. But Jean had ventured upon a faltering and
awe-stricken remonstrance. London ! And the expense
of it ! How was it to be done ?

" You may leave that to me," Margaret said.

" Oh, Margaret," cried Jean, "it's not that I would inter-
fere. You know I would never interfere ; but where will
you get the money ? And do you think it will not be
putting fancies in Lilias' head ? It's like that dream of
living in New Murkley. She will never be able to do it.
Even if she. had gotten my grandfather's money "

" She has not gotten my grandfather's money," said
Margaret. " You may leave the question of money to
me."

" And so I will, and so I will," said Jean. " But oh, do
you not think that all that grandeur, and fashion, and
luxury which we cannot keep up will be bad for her. It
will be just a glimpse, and then all done."

" Unless there should come something of it ; and then
it need not be all done," Margaret said, oracularly.

" What could come of it ? " cried Miss Jean, opening
wide her gentle eyes.

But Miss Margaret, bidding her ask no questions, if she
did not understand, left her in her wondering. What could
come of it ? Margaret could not be. thinking of a place
at court for Lilias, as she was only a girl, poor thing ; and
even places at court are not things to make anybody's
fortune. What could Margaret mean ? But Jean had
not the smallest inkling of what her sister's intentions
could be.

As for Margaret, as soon as she had fully formed this
determination in her own mind, her thoughts took a new
impulse. She wanted the highest and best of all things
for Lilias — a perfect lover, a husband worthy to be the
prop and support and restorer of the house of Murray.
She knew very well that she would not be easily satisfied.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 101

Wealth would not be enough, nor good looks, nor a good
name. She wanted all together, and she wanted something
more. A fool, if he were a prince, would not have done
for her, nor a man of genius unless he had been a true
lover, putting Lilias above all women.

It may be imagined that the quest on which she was
setting out was not an easy one. She followed it in her
thoughts through many an imaginary scene. Miss Mar-
garet was a very sensible woman ; there was nobody better
able to guide the affairs of her family. She was not easily
taken in nor given to deceiving herself ; yet, when in her
imagination she went into the world of London and society
there, no dream was ever more wildly unlike reality than
were her thoughts.

CHAPTER XVII

THE only thing which had shaken Lilias in the virginal
calm of her thoughts was the example of little Katie Seton, a
younger girl than herself, and whose system of education had
been so different. While Lilias had been kept under the wing
of her sisters, apart from any encounter, Katie had been
introduced to everything their little world contained of
wild sensation and adventure. She had entered upon the
agitations of love-making almost as soon as she was in her
teens, and her sixteenth birthday was scarcely past when
she appeared one afternoon, as Lilias put away her books,
evidently in all the excitement of some, great news to com-
municate, which Miss Margaret's presence kept in, though
Katie was bursting with it.

" Well, well," she said, " I suppose you must have your
bits of secrets at your age ; there will be no great harm
in them. I will find my book another time. But mind
you don't stay too long in this room, which is cold when
there is no sun, but come into the drawing-room to your
tea. You will find me there, and Jean — and sense," said
Miss Margaret, with her back turned to them, calmly
selecting a book from the shelves — " if you should happen
to stand in any need of that last "

4t

102 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" Oh, no, no ! " cried Katie, when at last Miss Margaret
went away, running to shut the door after her, and make
sure at least of being alone with her friend, " we stand in
nd need of that. Oh, Lilias ! " she said, rushing up to her
companion and flinging her arms round her with such
vehemence that the slight girl swayed with the sudden
shock.

" What is it, Katie ? " Lilias cried. " What is it ?
Tell me, but do not knock me down.'1

" Oh, it is you that are sense," cried Katie, with a sort
of fury, pusjiing her friend into the big chair, and falling
down herself at the side of it, with her arms on Lilias'
knee.

" I am as anxious to hear as you are to tell," she said.
" Quick, quick, tell me ! What is the matter ? Have
they sent him away ? "

" Oh, Lily ! Something far more wonderful. There
is no knowing what they may do. They will do something
dreadful — they will do anything to part us. Oh, Lily !
you'll never, never tell anybody, not even Miss Jean — not
a word i I'll never, never speak to you all my life,
if you tell upon me now ! "

" I tell upon you ! Did I ever tell upon you ? " said
Lilias, indignant. " That about Robbie Bairnsfather was
found out. It was never me."

" I know you will not tell," said Katie. " You are
just my own Lily. You will never say a word. Lilias !

I'm oh, can't you guess ? We are — engaged It

is quite true. Look," the girl cried, with a glowing
countenance, opening a button of her bodice and drawing
forth from under it a little ring, attached to a ribbon.
Her hand trembled, though it was the hand of a tom-
boy. Her face shone ; tears were in the eyes which were,
as Miss Margaret said, " leaping out of her head."

" Engaged ! " cried Lilias. " Oh, you gave me such a
fright. When I saw the ring, I thought you were going
to say you were — married. Let me get my breath."

" Married ! " Katie said, with a certain contempt. To
be married would be the prose of the transaction. She
felt herself upon a higher, more ethereal altitude. " That
would be nothing," she said. " There would be no secret
then. Oh, Lily, isn't it wonderful ? This is a ring that

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 103

is his very own, that an old lady gave him when he was
a boy. Look at it ! It's all turquoise, and turquoise
means happiness. He put it on my finger, but I dare
not wear it on my finger, for mamma would be sure to
notice. So I wear it round my neck : but I may put it on
here," Katie said. " Look, Lilias ! Isn't it bonnie ? I
always wanted a ring, but I never thought I would get
the engaged ring the very first of all."

There was a little triumph in Katie's tone. Not only
was Lilias far, very far, from being the proud possessor
of an " engaged " ring, but she had scarcely been allowed
" to speak to a gentleman " — a thing Mrs. Seton thought
the worst policy — in all her life.

'.' But never mind the ring. Tell me about — what hap-
pened," said Lilias. " You have not even told me who
it is."

" Oh ! " cried Katie, red with indignation, " who could
it be but him ? I am sure I have never said a word, or
even thought of anybody but him for — for ages," she
added, with a little vagueness, sinking from the assumed
superiority of her former tone.

" Well, dear," said Lilias, soothingly, " but then, you
know, there was Mr. Dunlop."

" I never cared a bit about him. He was only just
in the way. You have to let a gentleman speak to you
when he is in your way."

" I suppose so," said Lilias, with a faint sigh. Such
an experience had never happened to herself. " But how
was I to know ? And it is not very long since — but it is
Philip ? Oh, yes, I supposed so all along, especially as
it is such a secret. If it had been Mr. Dunlop it would
have been no secret — or Robbie — or "

" I wish you would not speak such nonsense. I never,
never thought — it was only just for fun. I never in all
my life cared for anybody but him ! Oh, never ; you
may say what you please, but it's only me that can
know."

" That is true," said Lilias, with gentle conviction.
" But tell me how it happened, and wh^en — and what
he said, and what you said. It will be like a story, but
only far, far more interesting," Lilias said.

Katie made a very pretty picture as she told her story.

104 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

She was leaning her elbows on Lilias' lap, and playing with
the long chain which Lilias, after the fashion of the time,
wore to her watch, and which was the object of Katie's
warmest admiration. She was twisting this in her
fingers, tying knots in it, occupying her eyes with it,
and escaping her friend's gaze, though she sometimes
paused for a moment and gave a glance upward. Her
little blooming face was in a glow of colour and excite-
ment, ready to laugh, ready to cry. As for Lilias, she
was full of attention, bending forward, her face following
every variation of her friend's.

" Oh, Katie, what a terrible thing to happen ! And
then did you just go home as usual, and never say a
word ? "

" What could I say ? I would not tell mamma for all
the world. She would want to make a business of it,
and tell Mrs.' Stormont, and get it all settled. She would
want us to be married ; but I don't want to be married
— I want to have my fun."

" Oh, Katie ! "

" Everybody says ' Oh, Katie ! ' " said the girl, plain-
tively ; " but that does not make any difference. It is
not dreadful at all — it is very nice. I belong to him, and
he belongs to me ; he tells me everything, and I tell him
everything. But we don't want to make a fuss ; we are
quite happy as we are. Mrs. Stormont would just go
daft, you know. She knows quite well that is what it
is coming to — oh, I can see it in her eyes ! I think she
would like to send me to prison, if she could, to get me
out of Philip's way."

" But, Katie, if you think that "

" Oh, it does not make any difference to me ; perhaps
I would do the same myself. There's our Robbie, if he
wanted to be married, I would think he was mad, and
mamma would be — I don't know what mamma wouldn't
do. I suppose it's natural. Everybody wants their own
people to do well for themselves, and I have no money,
not a penny. Mrs. Stormont would have been quite
pleased, Lilias, if it had been you."

" Me ! " said Lilias, with a blush, but a slight erection
of her head ; she laughed to carry off the slight shock of
offence. " But that would not have done at all," she said.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 105

" Oh, no, it is just the same thing ; you are too good,
and I'm not good enough. If it had been you, Miss
Margaret would have tried to have him sent to prison ;
and perhaps, when there is somebody found grand enough
for you, Lilias, his folk will not be pleased. That is
always the way," said the shrewd Katie, shaking her
head ; " but it happens, all the same. Isn't it bonnie ? "
she added, returning to the former subject, and holding
up her hand with the ring on it. " Turquoise is the right
thing for an engaged ring ; but, when your one comes,
never let him give you an opal, Lilias — that is such bad
luck."

" Oh ! if anyone were to come — as you say : I should
think of something else than rings," Lilias said, and
blushed at the thought. It seemed to her a little breach
of modesty even to speak of any such incident. When,
in the fulness of time, it came, with a strange and wonder-
ful event ! but not to be profaned by anticipation. Her
heart gave a throb, then left the subject in silence. " But
it will have to be known some time," she said.

Katie shrugged her little shoulders.

" It will not be through me," she said. " They say a
girl can't keep a secret, but just you try me. He can do
what he likes, but I will never tell — never, not if I were
to be put on the rack."

" I could not do it," she said.

" Oh, you ! No, you could not do it ; but then you
could not do any of it," cried Katie. " You have been
brought up by old maids ; you are never let speak to a
gentleman at all ; it never could happen to you," she
cried, with a little triumph.

And Lilias, for her part, had to allow to herself, with a
certain sense of humiliation, that Katie was right. It
never would happen to her. No Orlando would ever be
able to hang verses on the trees at Murkley, even no Philip
meet her out walking by the river-side, and woo her in
Katie's artless way. She wondered how it ever could be
permitted to happen at all — or would it never happen,
and she herself live and die without any other experience,
like Jean and Margaret ? Her heart fluttered in her
maiden bosom with th.3 strangeness of the question.
She did not believe in the depths of her heart that it

io6 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

never could happen. In some miraculous way, as it
happened to the ladies of romance, it would come to her.
But it would be very different frcm Katie's story~
everything about it would be different. The news roused
her mind and affected her dreams in spite of herself.

The sunset was still blazing over the river, when it was
already twilight in the Ghost's Walk, which lay on the
other side of the house, and saw no sunshine later than
noon. Lilias paced about under the silken foliage of the
limes in the still air, which was full of dreams, and felt
herself left outside of life, looking at it from a distance
with a visionary pensive sadness. There was something
in the air, the subdued light, the sense of evening all
about, which chimed in with this mood. It was curious
to think of Katie, so much younger than herself, enjoy-
ing everything, the flush of youthful sunshine, while
she was thus left out. But Lilias felt at the same time
a certain gentle superiority, the elevation of the pensive
vestal, in delicate solitude and retirement, over the
common ways of the world. She walked about in a soft
dream, with a sigh, yet with a sensation of gentle grandeur
which made up for and was enhanced by the sadness.
As she paused under the great old lime-tree which was
in the centre of the walk, the soft sounds which distin-
guished the family spectre were very audible. She kr.ew
the story of that gentle lady who had died for love.
None of the Murrays were afraid of her. To have seen her
would have been a distinction — they had heard her from
generation to generation. There was even a tradition in
the family that one time or other, when the wedded mis-
tress of the house should be at the same time a daughter
of the house, a Murray born, the lady of the walk would
appear to her, and pace by her side, and tell her some-
thing that would be well for the race.

Lilias paused, and looked about her with pride, and
tenderness, and a thrill of anticipation. She had thought
often that she herself might be that destined lady ;
but the thought had never moved her as now. It awoke
a little tumult in her bosom as she stood there in the
subdued evening air full of the recollection of the love-
tale that had been told her. Margaret and Jean walked
in the Ghost's Walk^without any such movements or

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 107

beatings of the heart. • Lilias felt a great awe come over
her as she stood and listened. If ever these soft steps that
had paced about under the limes for two hundred years
should turn aside from their habitual walk, and the air
above them shape into a vision, what wonderful events
must happen first ? She stood silent, almost without
breathing for a moment, and then she drew the skirt of
her dress over her arm, and fled into the house as if some-
thing had been pursuing her. It was not that she was
afraid of any ghostly appearance ; but she was afraid
of the rustling of the wings of the coming years, and of
the events that were approaching her through the silence,
the things that were to shape her life. What were they ?
— perhaps patience, perhaps sorrow, such as women so
often have to dwell with. Perhaps, who could tell, Love,
the unknown, the greatest of all. She fled from them
and the thought of them, whatever they might be.

CHAPTER XVIII

IT was about this time that Lewis first came to the house
to play to Miss Jean ; but of this Lilias was not supposed
to know anything. She had seen him to be a stranger
when they had first met on the road, and she had perceived,
with a mixture of amusement and pique that whereas
he looked with a good deal of curiosity at her sisters, her
own blue veil had been a sort of sanctuary for herself.
Lilias could not but think he must be a stupid young
man not to have divined. It tickled her to think that
he had passed her quite over and gazed at Margaret and
Jean. But he did not interest her much. When she met
him again at the new castle, she was still more amused by
his startled look at her, and by the way in which he
permitted Miss Margaret to swoop upon him and carry
him off. There was something amiable, something nice
about him, she thought. He was like a brother. She
was seized with sudden kindness for him after that second
encounter. And then it amused her much that Margaret
thought it necessary to carry off this mild, colourless,

108 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

smiling youth out of her way. From the moment this
happened she made up her mind to make his acquaintance,
and it was not in such utter innocence as Jean supposed
that Lilias made that sudden appearance in the drawing-
room, cutting short a proposal upon the very lips of Lewis,
and interrupting the high tension of the situation. The
dinner that followed, the startled look which he had cast
upon herself, his silence and bewildered absorption when
he sat opposite to her, and the discomfiture of Margaret,
had all been exceedingly amusing to the young plotter.
Lilias had been very demure. She had sat at table like
an innocent little school-girl who thought of nothing but
her lessons. She became conscious after a while that he
had once or twice met her eye when she was off her guard,
and probably had caught the sparkle of malice in it ;
and then Lilias began to feel guilty, but this was not till
the meal was nearly over, and she had got her amusement
out of it. She disappeared the moment they rose from
table, determined to show Margaret that she meant no
harm. And indeed Miss Margaret was too anxious to
put " nothing in her head," to suggest no ideas to the
young mind which she believed so innocent, to say a word
as to this incident. It was quite natural that the child
in her guilelessness should ask the stranger to come to
dinner.

" I feel it a reproach on myself," Margaret said. " It's'
not the habit in any house of ours to let a visitor go without
breaking bread. I did not do it myself because of a feeling,
that is perhaps an unworthy feeling, that he came of none
of the Murrays we know of, and that I'm not fond of sitting
down with a person that might not be just a —

" Oh, don't say not a gentleman, Margaret," cried Jean.
'" He might be an angel to hear him play."

" Ah ! well, that might be : an angel is not neces-
sarily :" Miss Margaret said, with a curious dry ness.

" But you were quite right, Lilias. It's what I desire
that a creature like you should just do what is right with-
out thinking of any reason against it."

Margaret's brow had a pucker of care in it even when
she said this, and Lilias felt so guilty that she had nearly
fallen on her knees and confessed her little trick. But
to what good ? Had she confessed, they would have

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 109

thought her far more to blame than she really was ; they
would have thought she wanted to make the stranger's
acquaintance, or had some secret inclination towards him,
whereas all that she wanted was fun, a thing as different
as night from day.

" This young man was probably saying something to
you about himself," Miss Margaret said. " Lilias, you
may go to your books, and I will come to you in half an
hour or so. You have the air of being a little put about,
Jean. I would be glad of your confidence, if you have no
objection. I hope there is nothing that can occur that
will come between you and me."

" Come between you and me ! " cried Miss Jean, in
astonishment. ". I know nothing that could do that,
Margaret ; but, dear me ! you must *mean something.
You would not say a thing like that just merely without
any cause. Confidence ! — I have no confidence to give.
You know me just as well as I know myself."

" Is that so ? " said the elder sister, looking at her with
penetrating eyes.

" Why should it not be so ? There must be something
on your mind, Margaret."

" There is nothing on my mind. No doubt this young
man was. saying something to you — about himself."

" I cannot remember what he said," said Miss Jean ;
and then she uttered an exclamation of annoyance.
" How selfish I am ! " she said — •" just like all the rest.
We listen to what concerns us, and not a bit to what
concerns -another person. Yes, he did tell me something,
poor lad, about settling down here. I was surprised,
for what should a young man do here ? and yet you do not
like to say a word against it, when it's your own place. It
is like saying you will take no notice of him, or that there's
some reason why he shouldn't come. I was very glad
when Lilias came in ; it saved me from making any answer,
and I did not know what to say."

" Dear me ! " said Miss Margaret, still suspicious. " It
must have been something out of the common if you were
so much at a loss as that."

Jean looked at her for a moment with doubtful eyes.

"If it had been only me, it would have been easy

enough," she said. " I would have said, ' If you settle

no IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

here, Mr. Murray, we will be very glad from time to time
to see you at the Castle, and if you should be going to
marry, as would be natural, my sisters and me will do
what we can to make the place agreeable to your young
lady.' That is what I would have said if it had been only
me ; for to play such music as yon is given to few, and my
opinion is that nobody but a well-educated person, and
one that was gentle by nature, could ever do it. But when
I remembered that you had not that way of knowing,
and were a little suspicious of the lad that he might be a
common person, I was just silenced, and could not find a
word to say."

Margaret had turned away to conceal a certain con-
straint that was in her countenance. She waited for a few
minutes with her back to her sister, looking out of the
window, before she ventured to speak.

" I am glad he was so modest/' she said ; " but what
would he do settling here in this quiet little place ? "

" That is just what I said," said Jean, all unconscious.
" I told him he would repent. And he really is a most
innocent, single-minded youth, for he said something
quite plain about looking to us for society, which made it
more hard for me to give him no encouragement. But
I did not like to take it upon me as you were not
there."

Upon this Margaret turned round upon her placid
sister with a little excitement.

" You are old enough to judge for yourself, Jean. You
have a good right to choose for yourself. I'm a woman
of strong opinions, I cannot help it. But you're a gentle
creature, and you have a heart as young as Lilias. Just do
what you think best, and don't let anything depend on
me."

Jean looked up with a little surprise at this speech.
" I have no desire," she said, " my dear Margaret, to set up
my judgment in that way. We're one, we're not two,
we have always been of the same mind. Perhaps we will
hear something more satisfactory about his family ; for
I have a real hope you will take the young man up. He
has very nice manners, and his touch is just extraordinary.
It would be such a good thing for Lilias, too. To see
him at the piano is better than many a lesson. So I hope

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS in

you will take the best view you can of him. To bring
him to dinner was very startling to me, but it is fine that
Lilias has such a sense of hospitality."

All this Jean said with a manner so entirely undisturbed
, that Margaret could not tell what to think. It was she
who was abashed and confused — she who had supposed
it possible that her sister could be moved by the young
man's nonsense. Indeed, when she came to think it over,
she felt almost a conviction that it was she herself who
was mistaken. Jean evidently was totally unenlightened
in respect to any intentions he might have. It must have
been she who had made the mistake. She was not fond of
acknowledging herself in the wrong, even to herself, but
it was fortunate at least that no one else knew the delusion
she had been under, and still more fortunate that now that
delusion was past.

CHAPTER XIX

IT was, as has been said, the dearest object of Miss Mar-
garet's heart to keep her little sister safe, and preserve
her from all youthful entanglements of sentiment. But
Mrs. Stormont of the Tower had a dearest object which was
entirely in opposition to Margaret's. Her dream was to
secure for her own Philip this very lily of Murkley which
was kept so persistently in the shade. Mrs. Stormont
had been an old friend of the General ; they had called
themselves old friends for years with a twinkle in the eye of
one and a conscious smile upon the corners of the other's
mouth, which would have betrayed their little secret had
not the countryside in general known it as well as they did.
They had been, in fact, lovers in their youth, and all the
skill of their respective families had been exercised once
upon a time to keep them apart. The attempt had been
quite successful, and neither Mrs. Stormont nor the General
had been sorry in after-life.

It was long before the General's death, however, that
Mrs. Stormont had formed her plans. Philip was the only
child left to her after the loss of many. She did not

H2 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

adore him in the ordinary way ; she formed to herself
no delusions as to his excellence, but knew him as what
he was, an honest fellow, who would never set the Tay,
let alone the Thames, on fire. It was a disappointment
to his mother that he was not clever, but she had made
up her mind to that. But she felt that he could not help
more or less making a figure in the county if it could be
secured for him that he should have Lilias Murray to be
his wife.

The last Stormont of the Tower married to the last
Murray of Murkley would have a position which the duke
himself must .pay respect to. She had thought of this for
years.

And then the young people had arrived at an age
when it is no longer possible to make arrangements
for them, when they begin to settle for themselves.
Philip grown-rup had showed no inclination to carry out
his mother's wishes. He had gone away for some years.
He had come home quite independent, making his own
engagements. He had grown into an liabitui of the manse,
not of the castle. And Margaret had shut her little sister
up, letting her go nowhere. This made at last a crisis
in the history of the parish.

Mrs. Stormont lived a somewhat lonely life in her Tower.
In winter especially it was a long walk for people who
did not keep carriages. The remoter country people paid
ceremonious calls, just as many as were due to her, and
Mrs. Seton, never to be discouraged in the discharge
of her duty, bravely climbed the cliff about once a fort-
night. But these visits Mrs. Stormont did not esteem.
As anxious as she was to find her son a fitting mate in
Lilias, so anxious, she could not but allow, other people
might be to advance the interests of their children. Philip
would be but a bad match for Lilias, but he was an excel-
lent one for Katie Seton. The one mother comprehended
the tactics of the other. Therefore, when the minister's
wife came to call, there was a sort of duel between the
ladies — an encounter from which cordiality did not ensue.
The only ground on which they were unanimous was in
denouncing the pride of Margaret Murray in withdrawing
her young sister from the society of her neighbours, and
that ambitious project she had for taking her to London.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 113

Mrs. Seton had been powerless in all her attempts to have
the embargo removed.

" You know what my little bits of parties are," she
said, " just a few friends to tea — and, if the young people
like to have a little dance after, I would not stop them ;
but no preparations — just the table drawn away into a
corner "

She laughed, but Mrs. Stormont did not laugh. She
sat very upright in her chair, and went on with her knitting
without the relaxation of a feature.

" I am thinking," she said, after a pause, " if I keep
well, of seeing a little company myself."

" Dear me ! that will be a great pleasure to the young
people to hear of."

" Oh, I'll not enter into competition with you," said
Mrs. Stormont, coldly. "But Philip is not just in the
boy and girl category. It's for his sake that I think it's
necessary to see a few of my old county friends."

Mrs. Seton, though she was piqued, was equal to the
occasion.

" That's quite a different thing, to be sure," she said,
" from the parish. I may not be very quick in the uptake,
but of course I can see that."

" On the contrary, I would say you were very quick in
the uptake," said Mrs. Stormont ; " there is nobodV
but knows it. It is not the same as just the neighbours
in the parish ; but I need not say that the clergyman,
especially when he's respected like Mr. Seton, and his
family are always included."

" That's very kind," said Mrs. Seton. " If it is to be
soon, however, I'm afraid we will not have the pleasure ;
we are going to pay some summer visits, my husband and
me, and I think we'll take Katie with us. It's time she were
seeing a little of the world."

" Bless me ! at sixteen, what does a girl want with
seeing the world ? " Mrs. Stormont cried.

" There is never any telling," said the minister's wife.
" It's sometimes a great advantage to be made to see
that a parish or even a county is not all the world. But,"
she added, rising with great suavity, " if we do not see it,
we'll hear about it, and I'm sure I hope it will be a great
success."

114 *T WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER XX

MRS. STORMONT was not a person whom it was easy to
move from her purpose. She was a serious woman, little
addicted to balls, but, when she had determined upon
this frivolity, it became to her a piece of business as in-
cumbent upon her, and to be undertaken 'as conscientiously,
as any other duty. If she foresaw in her sober and long-
sighted intelligence the embarrassment it was likely to
bring into her son's relations with the Setons, this was
merely by the way, and not important enough to rank with
her as a motive" She glimpsed at it in passing as an
auxiliary advantage rather than contemplated it as worth
the trouble she was taking in itself. Her motives were
distinct enough. She said to the world that her object
was to return the civilities which had been paid to her son,
than which nothing could be more natural. She owned
to herself another and still stronger motive, which she
prepared to carry out by a visit to Murkley as soon as her
project had fully shaped itself in her mind. If she could
succeed in bringing out Lilias at this entertainment, and
making it the occasion of her introduction into society — if,
amid the gratification which this preference of his house
above all the other houses of the district must give Philip,
she could place before her son's eyes a young creature far
more lovely than Katie, as well as more gently bred and of
higher pretensions, and re-knit the old bonds of childish
intimacy between them, and convince both that they were
made for each other, Mrs. Stormont felt that all the
trouble and the expense, which she did not like, but accepted
as a dolorous necessity, would not be in vain. This was
her aim, if she could but carry it out.

As she thought over the details, she felt, indeed, that
the minister's family, who had given themselves the air of
being Philip's chief friends, would no doubt on such an
occasion find their level. Mrs. Seton, who had it all her
own way in the parish, would in the society of the county

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 115

be put in her right place. And as for the little thing,
who was not worth half the trouble she was likely to give,
she would get her fill of dancing — for she was a good dancer,
there could be no doubt on that point — but she would not
have Mr. Stormont to dance attendance upon her, as no
doubt she would expect. This would be a sort of inevit-
able revenge upon them, not absolutely intentional —
indeed, beyond any power of hers to prevent — but which
naturally she would have done nothing to prevent, even if
she had the power. She caught sight of it, as it were, by
the way, and was grimly amused and pleased. They
would not like it ; but vjhat did that matter ? It would
let them see what was their proper place.

This, however, which to Mrs. Stormont was but one of
the gratifying details of her plan, bulked much more
largely in the eyes of Philip. He did the best he could to
turn her from the ball altogether.

" It will be a great expense," he said, with a face as long
as his arm. " Do you think, mother, it is really worth
the while ? "

" Everything is worth the while, Philip, that will put
you in your proper place."

" What is my proper place, if I am not in it already
without that? There is no more need for a ball to-day
than there was a year ago."

" Then the less I lee, when I say it's needed now,"
said Mrs. Stormont, who loved a proverb. " Being wanted
a year ago, as .you confess, it is indispensable by this
time. I am going to begin with Murkley ; they are our
nearest neighbours, and the oldest family in the county.
If Margaret will but bring Lilias, that of itself will be
worth all the cost. The prettiest girl in the whole neigh-
bourhood, and so much romance about her. I would
dearly like if she took her first step in the world in this
house, Phil. It was here she first learned to walk alone,
poor bit motherless thing ; and her first step was into
your arms."

Philip laughed, but the suggestion was confusing.

" I hope you don't intend that performance to be
repeated now," he said.

" I would have no objection for my part," said his
mother. " You might go farther and fare worse — both of

n6 • IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

you. Murkley marches with your lands, and if anything
of the kind should come to pass "

" I wish, mother, you would give up calculations of
that sort."

" I never began them," said Mrs. Stormont, promptly.
" I say you may go farther and fare worse. You can
drive me to Murkley, if ye please, in the afternoon', and
pay your respects to the ladies."

" Can't Sandy drive you, as usual ? " said her son, with
a lowering brow.

" Oh, for that matter, I'm very independent. I can
drive myself." said Mrs. Stormont, who went on the safe
principle of making her own arrangements.

And at three o'clock, accordingly, the sturdy old. pony
felt in his imagination the flashing of Sandy's whip, and
set off at a steady pace down the hill towards Murkley.

The appearance of Mrs. Stormont's carriage was very
welcome at Murkley in the languor of the afternoon.
Something in the sense that she " might have been their
mother " gave a softness to her manners in that place.
She kissed even Margaret and Jean with a certain affection-
ateness, although they could not have been more than step-
daughters to her in any case.

" And where is my bonnie Lily ? " she said. There
could not be a doubt that she loved Lilias for herself,
besides all her other recommendations. She took the girl
into her arms, into the warm enfolding of her heavy black
silk cloak. " Now, let me see how you're looking," she
said, holding her at arm's length. " My dear Margaret,
we'll have to acknowledge, whether we will or not, that this
bit creature is woman grown."

" I have not grown a bit for two years," said Lilias. " I
am more than a woman, I am getting an old woman ; but
Margaret will never see it."

" And what is the news with you ? " said Miss Jean.

" Well, my dears," said Mrs. Stormont, " I have some
news, for a wonder, and I have come to get you to help me^
I am going to give a party."

Lilias uttered a soft little cry, and put out her hands
towards Margaret with a gesture of appeal.

" A — ball." said Mrs. Stormont, with deliberation,
making a pause before the word.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 117

Lilias jumped to her feet. She clapped her hands
together with soft vehemence.

" Oh, Margaret, oh, Margaret ! " she cried.

" That is exactly what I mean," the elder lady said.
" I meant to have approached the subject with caution,
but it's better to be bold and make a clean breast of it.
That is just what it is, Margaret. You see, everybody
has been very kind to Philip, yourselves included. And
I want to give an entertainment, to make some little
return. But I am not a millionaire, as you know, and
I'm very much out of the habit of gaieties. There is
just one thing my heart is set upon, and that is to have
the Lily of Murkley at Philip's ball."

Philip had been the object of Margaret's chief est alarm for
a long time past. But she did not know this ; and when
she looked round upon the ladies and saw the blank that
came over their faces, it gave her a pang such as she
had not felt since the first lowering of her expectations
for Philip — and that was long ago. But Lilias herself
did not show any blank. The girl had begun to execute
a little dance of impatience before Margaret, holding out
supplicating hands.

" Oh, will you let me go ? Oh, Margaret, let me go !
I will be an old woman before you let me see a dance. Oh,
just this once, Margaret ! Oh, Jean, why don't you speak ?
Even if I am to go to Court, the Queen will never know.
And besides, do you think she would take the trouble to
find out whether the girls that are present had ever been
at a dance before ? Do you think the Queen has the time
for that ? And she's far too kind, besides. Margaret,
oh ! will you let me go ? "

" My dear Margaret," said Mrs. Stormont, " I would
always respect a decision that had been come to after
reflection, as you say. But, dear me, after all it's not so
serious a matter. If a girl had to be kept out of the world
till she's presented, as Lilias says, I suppose that would
be a reason. But you know better than that. And I may
never live to give another dance, though you will have
plenty of them, my dear, long before you are sixty. And
it will never be just the same thing again for Philip.
Think what friends they've been all their lives. When
I think they might have been brother and sister," she

n8 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

added, with a laugh, " if I had been left [to my own
guiding ! — and Philip has always had that feeling for
her. Bless me, Lilias, if that had taken place, you
would have been no heiress at all. So perhaps it is as
well for you I am not your mother," Mrs. Stormont
said.

At this Lilias paused in the midst of her excitement to
consider so curious a question. It opened up specula-
tions, indeed, for them all. The presumption of sup-
posing it possible that Philip could ever have been a
Murray was scarcely less than that of believing that
carefully constructed system could be broken through
in order that Lilias might go to Philip's ball. What was
Philip, that they should thus meet him upon every side ?
Mrs. Stormont did not quite fathom the cause of the
sudden cloud which fell upon her friends. It could not,
she said -to herself, be her joke about Philip — that was
just nonsense, she had no meaning in it. It was just
one of the things that people say to keep up the conversa-
tion. But she had to retire without receiving any final
answer to her proposition. She had indeed to congratu-
late herself that there was no final answer, for this left
ground for a little hope ; but, whether or not Lilias was
eventually permitted to accept the invitation, Mrs. Stor-
mont^left^Murkley with an uncomfortable feeling that her
present visit had been a failure. She had gone wrong
somehow, she could not exactly tell how. Something
about Philip had jarred upon them, and she had been so
anxious to present Philip under the best possible light !
It was not often that she failed in making herself welcome,
and the sensation was disagreeable. It was this failure,
perhaps, which prompted her to tell Sandy to drive to
the manse, perhaps with a slight inclination to indemnify
herself, to make the people there suffer a little for the
mistake she had made. She was so sure that Mrs. Seton
had been injudicious about Katie, that she felt confident
in her own power of being disagreeable at a moment's
notice. It was not, however, with any intention of this
kind that she stopped Sandy at the garden door, and
went round by that way, instead of driving formally round
the little " sweep," and reaching in state the grand en-
trance. Most of the visitors of the manse entered by he

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 119

garden. Had she been walking, neither she nor any one
else would have thought of any other way.

But it was an unfortunate moment. Somebody was
playing the piano in the drawing-room. "And, if that
is Katie, she must have been having lessons, for I never
heard her play like that before : and, no doubt, dear
lessons," Mrs. Stormont added to herself, " though there
are six of a family, and boys that should be at college."
She was a little jaundiced where the Setons were con-
cerned. She came up to the glass door, and tapped
lightly ; whereupon there was a stir in the room, not like
the placid composure with which people turn their faces
towards a new visitor when they have been doing nothing
improper. There was a confused sound of voices : one
of the younger girls came in sight from behind the piano,
and advanced with a somewhat scared face to the door
which Mrs. Stormont had opened. Having thus had her
suspicions fully aroused, she was scarcely surprised to
see stumbling up from a chair, in a corner which retained
a position of guilty proximity — noticed too late to be
remedied — to another chair, her very son Philip who had
already spoiled one visit to her, and of whom she believed
that he was engaged in some necessary duty about the
estate several miles off. Philip's face was flushed and
sullen. Of all things in the world there is nothing so
disagreeable as being " caught," and perhaps the sensa-
tion of being caught is all the more odious when you have
the consciousness of doing no wrong. Katie, more rapid
than her lover, was standing at the window with innocent
eyes regarding the flowers. To jump up from Philip's
side had been the affair of an instant with her. She
came forward now, but not without a certain faltering.

" Mamma has just gone to the nursery for a moment ;
but I will tell her you are here," Katie cried. As for
Philip, he stood like a cujprit, like a man at the bar, and
frowned upon his mother.

" Oh ! Philip ! " she said, " so you are here."

" Why shouldn't I be here ? " the young man replied.
He thought for the moment, with the instinct of guilt,
that his mother had come on purpose to find him out.

All this time there was, as Mrs. Stormont afterwards
remembered with gratitude, " one well-bred person "

120 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

in the room, which was the stranger of whom Sandy had
doubted whether he were English. English or not, he was
a gentleman, she afterwards concluded, for he went on
playing, not noisily, as if to screen anything, but as he
had been doing when she came through the garden, and
asked herself could that be Katie who played so well.
Lewis had perception enough to know that this unex-
pected arrival would not be pleasant to his friends.

Mrs. Seton came bustling in a moment after, full of
apologies. " I had not been out of the room a moment
— not a moment. But this is always what happens."

" I am afraid," said Mrs. Stormont, " that I've disturbed
you all. It is a stupid thing coming in at a side door. I
am sure I don't know what tempted me to do it. Another
time I will know better. I have just disturbed everybody."

She tried not to look at Philip, but his eyes were bent
upon her under cloudy brows.

" You have disturbed nobody," cried Mrs. Seton.
" We've just been sitting doing nothing, listening to the
music. Mr. Murray is so kind ; he just comes in and plays
when he pleases, and it is a privilege to listen to him."

" No wonder he comes when he has such listeners," said
Mrs. Stormont. " And, Philip, are you finding out that
you have a turn for music too ? "

" Oh, Mr. Philip, he comes with his friend," said Mrs.
Seton. " Listen, now, that's just delightful ! I let my
stocking drop — where is my stocking ? Music is a thing
that just carries me away. Thank you — thank you, Mr.
Murray ; and, dear me, Katie is so anxious not to lose
anything, here she is back already with the tea."

Katie came back with a little agitation about her,
which the keen spectator observed in a moment, not
without a little pang to perceive how prettily the colour
came and went upon her little countenance, and how her
eyes shone.

Now that they were all put on 'their guard, the fact was
that Mrs. Stormont was much mystified, and unable to
assure herself that she had found out anything. No one
can found an accusation on the fact that a girl grows red
or a young man black and lowering at her appearance.
Such evidence may be quite convincing morally, but it
cannot be brought forth and alleged as a reason for action.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 121

CHAPTER XXI

BUT Mrs. Stormont's visit was far from being destitute of
results. It caused a great many discussions and much
agitation at Murkley, where Lilias was in the greatest
commotion all the evening, and could scarcely sleep the
whole night through.

Next morning, however, Margaret astonished them all
by a decision which went entirely against all the argu-
ments of the night.

" I have been thinking," she said, as they sat at break-
fast. " There are a great many things to be taken into
account. You see, it is in our own parish, at our very-
doors. The horse-ferry is troublesome, but still it is
a thing that is in use both , day and night, and there is
no danger in it."

" Oh, no danger ! " cried Jean, who divined what was
coming.

"It was you I was thinking of, to make your mind easy ;
for you are the timorous one," Miss Margaret said.
*' Lilias there, with her eyes leaping out of her head,
would wade the water rather than- stay at home, and,
for my part, I'm seldom afraid. So it's satisfactory, you
think ; there's no danger, Jean ? Well ! and, for another
thing, if we were to refuse, it might be thought there was
a reason for it. That's very likely what would be said.
That there was an Inclination, or something that you and
me, Jean, had occasion to fear."

" It would never do to give anybody a chance of saying
that, Margaret," said Jean, with dismay.

" That is what I have been thinking," Miss Margaret
said.

And then Lilias jumped from her chair again, with
impatience and wild excitement.

" Oh, will you speak English, Margaret, or Scots, or
something that one can understand ! What do you mean
about Reasons and Inclinations ? Is it philosophy you
are talking — or is it something about the ball ? "

122 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" You are a silly thing with your balls. You don't
know your steps even. You have never had any lessons
since you were twelve. I am not going to a ball with a
girl that will do me no credit."

" Me — not know my steps ? And, if I didn't, Katie
would teach me. Oh, Margaret ! will I go after all ? "

And Lilias flung herself upon her sister's neck, and
spilt Miss Margaret's tea in the enthusiasm of her em-
brace. The tea was hot, and a much less offence would
have been almost capital from any other sinner ; but
when Margaret felt the girl's soft arms about her neck,
and received her kiss of enthusiasm, her attempt at fault-
finding was very feeble.

" Bless me, child, mind, I have on a clean collar. And
you'll ruin my gown ; a purple gown with tea spilt upon
it ! Is that a way of thanking me, to spoil my good
clothes ? There will be all the more need to take care
of them, 'for you'll want a new frock, and all kinds of
nonsense. Sit down — sit down, and eat your egg like a
natural creature. And, Jean, you must just give me
another cup of tea."

" I will do that, Margaret ; and, as for the dress, it
will be better to write about it at once "

" The dress is not all ; there will be shoes, and gloves,
and flowers, and fans, and every kind of thing. If you
had waited till the right time, we would have been in
London, where it is easy to fit out a princess ; but I must
just write to Edinburgh."

" She is a kind of a princess in her way," said Miss Jean,
looking fondly at the young heroine.

Lilias was touched by all these tender glances, though
she felt them to be natural.

" I only want a white frock," she said, with humility.
" I want to go for fun, not for finery."

Miss Jean nodded her head with approval.

" But there is your position that we must not forget,"
she said.

"You are too innocent," said Miss Margaret, "you
don't know the meaning of words. You shall just have a
white frock. What do you think you could wear else ?
— black velvet, perhaps, because of your position, as Jean
says ? But there are different kinds of white frocks.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 123

One kind like Katie Seton's, which is very suitable to her
father's daughter, and another — for Lilias Murray of
Murkley. You may trust that to me. But it's a fortnight
off, this grand ball, and if I hear another word about it
betwixt this and then, or find it getting into your head

when you should be thinking of Queen Elizabeth "

" I will think of nothing but Queen Elizabeth," cried
Lilias, clasping her hands with all the fervour of a con-
fession of faith. And she kept her word.

CHAPTER XXII

" REFUSE ? " said the experienced Katie, a little bewil-
dered by the question. " Oh, but you could not want
to refuse. It would not be civil. If you have an objection
to a gentleman, you can always manage to give him the
slip. You can keep out of his way, or say you're tired,
or just never mind, an4 get another partner, and pretend
you forgot."

" Then Jean is quite right ; and you have no choice.
You must just accept, whatever you think ? " said
Lilias, pale with indignation and dismay.

" I don't know what a gentleman would think, if you
refused him," said Katie. "It is a thing I never heard
of. You would make 'him wild. And then he would not
understand. He would just gape at you. He would not
believe his ears. He would think it was your ignorance.
And the others would all take his part ; they would say
they would not expose themselves to such an insult.
Nobody would ask you again."

" As for that, it is little I would care," cried Lilias
throwing her head back. " It is as much an insult to a
girl when they pass her by and don't ask her ; and must
she never give it them back ? They have their choice,
but we have none."

" Oh, yes," said Katie, " it is easy to say, what would
I care ? But when the time comes, and you sit through
the whole evening and see everybody else dancing' "

At this Lilias gave her little friend a look of astonish-

124 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

ment and disdainful indignation, which frightened Katie,
though she could not understand it. No one could be
more humble-minded, less disposed to stand upon her
superiority. But yet that superiority was undoubted,
and the idea that Lilias Murray of Murkley could sit
neglected had a ludicrous impossibility which it was in-
conceivable that anyone could overlook. Had a little
maid-of-honour ventured to say this to a princess, it
could not have been more out of character. The princess
naturally would not condescend to say anything of that
impossibility to the little person who showed so much
ignorance, but it would be scarcely possible to refrain
from a glance. Lilias ended, however, so ridiculous
was it, by a laugh, though still holding her head high.

" If that is the case, it must be better not to go to balls,"
she said. " For to think that a gentlewoman is to be at
the mercy of whoever offers "

" Oh, but, Lilias, I never said you couldn't give him
the slip ! " cried Katie, who did not know what she had
said that was wrong. " Or, if your mind is made up
against any gentleman, you can always say to the lady
of the house, ' Don't introduce so-and-so, or so-and-so.' "

" I was not thinking of myself," said Lilias, almost
haughtily. " But if a girl is asked," she added, after
a pause,' " what does that mean, if she may not refuse ?
The gentleman has his choice ; he need not ask her
unless he pleases — but she — she must not have any choice
— she must just take everybody that comes ! one the
same as another, as if she were blind, or deaf, or stupid ! "

" Oh, Lilias ! — but I never said it was so bad as that !
And when I tell you that you can always find a way to
throw them over. You can say you're tired, or that
you made a mistake, and were engaged before they asked
you ; or you can keep your last partner, and make him
throw over his, which is the easiest way of all — but there
are dozens of ways "

" By cheating ! " said Lilias, with lofty indignation.
" So Jean was right after all," she said, " and I am the
silly one ! I never believed that ladies were treated like
that — even when they are young, even when "

Here Lilias paused, feeling how ungenerous was the
argument, as only high-spirited girls do.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 125

" If gentlemen were what it seems to mean," she said,
with her eyes flashing', " it would not be only when ladies
.are young and — it would not be only then they would give
that regard to them ! And it should be scorn to a man to
pass by any girl, and so let her know he will not choose
to ask her, unless she has a right to turn too, and refuse
him ! "

" Oh, Lilias, that is just nonsense, nobody thinks of
that," said Katie. " If you take a little trouble, you
need never dance with a man you don't like. If you see
him coming, you can always get out of the way, and be
talking to somebody else ; or say your card's full, or that
you're afraid you will be away before then — or a hundred
things. But to say No ! — it would be so ill-bred. And
then the gentlemen would all be so astonished, they would
not expose themselves to such a thing as that. Not one
would ever ask you again."

" That is what we shall see ! " said Lilias.

Katie was so truly distressed by a resolution so auda-
cious and so suicidal that she spent half the afternoon
in an endeavour to persuade her friend against it. She
even cried over Lilias' perversity.

" What would you say ? " she asked. " Oh, you could
not — you could not be so silly ! They will just think it
is your ignorance. They will say you are so bashful, or
even that you are gauche."

Katie was not very clear what gauche meant, and the
word had all the more terrors for her. The girls were
walking in the Castle park, between New Murkley and
Old Murkley, when this conversation went on. It was
a way that was free to wayfarers, but the passers-by were
very few. And Margaret had loosened a little her
restrictions upon Lilias since the memorable decision about
the Stormonl; ball had been come to. What was the use
of watching over her so jealously, wrapping her up in blue
veils, and keeping her from sight of, or converse with the
world, when in a little while she was to be permitted a
glimpse of the very vortex, the whirlpool of .dissipation
— a ball ? The blue veil accordingly was thrown back,
and floated over the girl's shoulders, making a dark
background to her dazzling fairness, her light locks, and
lovely colour. And both form and face profited by the

126 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

stir of indignation, the visionary anger and scorn which
threw her head high, and inspired her step. These were
the very circumstances in which the lover should appear :
here were the heroine and the confidant, the two different
types of women, not the dark and fair only (though
Katie was not dark, but brown, hazel-eyed, and chestnut-
haired), but the matter-of-fact and the poetic, the visionary
and the woman of the world. And opportunities such as
these are not of the kind that are generally neglected. It
was no accident indeed that brought Philip by the little
gate that opened from the manse garden into the path in
which he knew he should find Katie. And perhaps it
was not exactly accident which led to the discovery of
Lewis when they neared the end of their walk, the great
white mass of New Murkley — about which the young
man was wandering, as he so often was, thinking many
an undivined thought. He was there so often that, had
anyone thought on the subject, it might have been with
the express object of finding him that the party strayed
that way ; but Lilias, at least, was entirely innocent of
either knowledge or calculation, so that, so far as she was
concerned, it was pure accident. He was walking with
his back to them, gazing up at the eyeless sockets of the
windows, when they came in sight. Lilias had been
reduced to an embarrassed silence since the appearance
of Philip. Her knowledge of their secret overwhelmed
her in their presence. She thought they must be embar-
rassed too. She thought they must wish to get rid of
her. She had not the least idea that to both these young
persons she was a defence and protection, under cover of
which they could enjoy each other's company, yet confront
the world. While they talked undaunted — or rather,
while Katie talked, for Philip was of a silent nature —
Lilias walked softly on, on the other side, getting as far
apart as she dared, drooping her head, wondering what
opportunity there might be to steal away. She was
not displeased, but somewhat startled at the outcry of
pleasure Katie made on perceiving the other — the fourth
who made the group complete.

" Oh, Mr. Murray — there is Mr. Murray ; but I might
have known it, for he is always about New Murkley,"
Katie cried. And Lewis turned round with friendly

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 127

looks, which glowed into wondering delight when he saw
the shyer figure lingering a little behind, the blue veil
thrown back. Just thus, attended by her faithful
guardians, he had seen her first. He recollected every
circumstance in a moment, as his eyes went beyond Katie
to her companion in the background. He remembered
how Miss Margaret had stepped forth to the rescue ;
how he had been marched away, and his thoughts led
to other matters. He had but just glimpsed then, and
he had not comprehended, that type of beautiful youth
in the shadow of the past. He had asked himself since
how it was possible that he had passed it over ? It had
been like a picture seen for an instant. When he saw her
now again, he felt like a man who has dreamed of some
happiness, and awoke to find that he had lost it : but the
dream had returned, and this time he should not lose it.
He received, with smiling delight, the salutations of
Katie, who hailed him from afar, and stood with his
hat in his hand, while Lilias responded shyly but brightly
to his greeting. She was pleased too. It was deliverance
to her from the restraint which she felt she was imposing
upon the lovers. And the friendly countenance of the
stranger, and his confused looks, and the aspect of Jean
at her own appearance before him, and of Margaret when
he followed her into the dining-room, had created an
atmosphere of amusement and interest round him. It had
been all fun that previous meeting, the most delightful
break in the every-day monotony. This made it agree-
able to Lilias, without any other motive, that she should
see Lewis again. She dared not laugh with him over it,
for she did not know him sufficiently, nor would she have
laughed at anything which involved Jean and Margaret
in the faintest derision ; but the sense of this amusement
past, and the secret laughter it had given her, made the
sight of him very pleasant. And then he was pleasant ;
not in the least handsome — unworthy a second glance so
far as that went — totally unseductive to the imagination
— so entirely different from the beau chevalier, six feet
two, with those dark eyes and waving locks, who some time
or other was to appear out of the unseen for Lilias. Never
at any time could it be possible that so undistinguished
a figure as that of Lewis should take the central place in

128 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

her visionary world ; but he had already found a little
corner there. He was like, she thought, the brother she
ought to have had. The hero whose mission 'it was to
save her life, to be rewarded by her love, stood worlds
above any such intruder ; but this beaming, friendly
countenance had come in as a symbol of kindness. Lilias
had perceived at once by instinct that he and she could be
friends.

" Lilias," cried Katie, " you must talk to him about
Murkley. He is always here. I think he comes both
night and day. You ought to find out what he means,
if he has seen a ghost, or what it is. And you are fond
of it too."

Lilias looked with a little surprise at the stranger.
Why should he care for Murkley ?

" You think it is strange to see such a great big desolate
house in such a place."

" I think — a great many things that I do not know how
to put into words : for my English, perhaps, is not so
good— — "

" Are you a German, Mr. Murray ? " asked Lilias, shyly.

The end of the other two was attained ; they had turned
aside into the woods, by that path which led down to
the old quarry and the river-side, the scene of so many
meetings. Lilias had no resource but to follow, though
with a sense of adven.ture and possible wrong-doing.
She was relieved that Katie and Philip were at last free
to talk as they pleased, and she was not at all alarmed by
her own companion ; still the thought of what Margaret
might say gave her a little thrill, half painful, half
pleasant.

" I am English," said Lewis ; " yes, true English,
though no one will believe me — otherwise I am of no
country, for I have lived in one as much as another. I
have a great interest in Murkley. If it were ever completed,
it would be very noble ; it would be a house to entertain
princes in."

" That is what I think sometimes," said Lilias ; " but,
then, it will never be completed. All the country knows
our story. We are poor, far too poor. And, even if it
were finished, it would need, Margaret says, an army of
servants, . and to furnish it would take a fortune. So it

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 129

would be long, long before we arrived at the princes."
She ended with a laugh, which, in its turn, ended v/ith
a sigh.

" But you — would like to do it ? — that would amuse
you "

" Oh ! amuse me ! It would not be amusement. It
would be grand to do it ! They say it would be finer
than Taymouth. Did you ever hear that ? "

" It is like the Louvre," said Lewis, " and that was built
for a great king's palace. It is like the ghost, not of a
person, but of an age. I think your ancestors must
come and walk about and inspect it all, and hold solemn
councils." ^

" But my ancestors knew nothing about it," said Lilias.
" Oh ! not that ; if they come it will be to make remarks,
and say how silly grandpapa was. If ghosts are like
people, that is what they will be saying, and that they
knew what it would end in all along, but he never would
pay any attention. I hope he never comes himself, or
he would hear — he would hear," cried Lilias, laughing,
" what Margaret calls a few truths."

" Do you think he was — silly ? " Lewis asked. What
right had he to be so emotionne, to feel the moisture in his
eyes and his voice tremble ? What could she think of him,
if she perceived this ? She would think it was affectation,
and that he was making believe.

" I think I am silly too," Lilias said. She would not
commit herself. She had heard a great deal about the old
Sir Patrick, and she was aware that he had disinherited
her ; but he, too, was in her imagination a shadowy, great
figure, of whom something mysterious might yet be heard,
for all Lilias knew. Strange stories had been told about
him. He had dabbled in black-arts. He had done a great
many strange things in his life. Perhaps even now a
mysterious packet might arrive some day, a new will
be found, or some late movement of repentance. He
might even step out from behind a tree in the Ghost's Walk,
or out of a dark corner in the library, and explain with a
dead voice, sounding far off, what he had done and why.
This suppressed imagination made Lilias always charitable
to him. Or perhaps she was moved by a kind of fascina-
tion and sympathy for one who had made his imagination

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

into something palpable, and built castles in stone as she
had done in dreams.

Lewis looked at her very wistfully.
" The princes you entertained would be noble ones,"-
he said, " not only princes for show."

" Oh, how do you know, Mr. Murray ? Do you think
I am such a — fool ? Well ! it would be like a fool to dream
of that, when there is next to no money at all ; you might
forgive a child for being so silly, but a woman grown-up, a

person that ought to know better

He kept looking at her, with a little moisture in his
eyes.

" I wish I were a magician," he said ; and then, with
one of his outbursts of confidence, which, having no pre-
vious clue to guide them, nobody understood — " What it
would have been," he said, clasping his hands together, " if
I had come here two years ago ! "

Lilias looked at him with extreme surprise. She
thought he had suddenly grown tired, as people so often do,
of discussing the desires of others, and had plunged back
thus abruptly into his own.

" If you had come here ? " she said, with a little wonder.
" Has Murkley, then, something to do with you too ? "

He did not make her any reply ; but, after a while, said,
faltering slightly,

" I hope that — Miss Jean — is well. I hope it is not
presumption, too much familiarity, to call her so."

" Oh, everybody calls her Miss Jean," said Lilias.
" There is no over- familiarity. She is so happy with your
music ; she plays it half the day, and then she says she
is not worthy to play it, that she is not fit to be listened to
after you."

" I think," said Lewis, " that there can be no music
that she is not worthy to play, not if it were the angel-
music straight out of heaven."

" And did you see that, so little as you have known of
her ? " cried Lilias, gratefully. " Ah, then I can see
what she finds in you, for you must be one that can
understand. Do you know what Margaret says of Jean ?
— that she is unspotted from the world. "
" And it is true."
The countenance of Lewis grew very serious as he

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 131

spoke ; all its lines settled down into a fixed gravity, yet
tenderness. Lilias was altogether bewildered by this
expression. He took Jean's praises far too much to heart
for a stranger, yet as if they gave him more sadness than
pleasure. Why should he be sad because Jean was good ?
An inclination to laugh came over her, and yet it was cruel
to laugh at anything so serious as his face.

" And she has had her patience so tried — oh ! dear Jean,
how she has had her patience tried, her and Margaret, with
me — me to bring- up ! I have been such a handful.'1

Lewis was taken entirely by surprise by this leap from
grave to gay. He was taken, as it were, with the tear in
his eye, his own mind bent on the solemnest of matters, and
she knowing nothing, amused by that too serious aspect,
made fun of him openly, turning his pensiveness into
laughter ! He looked at her almost with alarm, and then
he smiled, but went no further.

" It is that he will not laugh at Jean — no, nor anything
about her ; and what a thing am I to do it !" Lilias cried
out within herself, with a revulsion as sudden into self-
disgust. And then they both became very grave, and
walked along by each other's side in tremendous solemnity,
neither saying a word.

" Are you, too, so fond of music ? '-'• Lewis asked at
length.

Lilias gave him a half-comic look, and put her hands
together with a little petition for tolerance.

" It is not my fault," she said, softly. " I have not had
time to understand."

Her penitence, her appeal, her odd whisper of excuse
disarmed Lewis. His solemnity fled away ; he forgot that
he was to his own thinking the grave and faithful partner
of Miss Jean, assuring himself that he had got in her the
noblest woman, and pushing all lighter thoughts aside ;
and became once more a light-hearted youth by the side
of a light-hearted girl in a world all full of love, and mirth,
and joyfulness. He laughed and she laughed in the sudden
pleasure of this new-found harmony.

" You do not care for it," he said ; " you like it to make
you dance, not otherwise."

In cold blood this state of mind would have horrified
Lewis — in his present condition it seemed a grace the

5*

•132 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

more, a delightful foolishness and ignorance, a defect
which was beautiful and sweet.

" I think I should care if I knew better," said Lilias,
trying on her part to approach him a little from her side,
partly in sympathy, partly in shame of her own imper-
fection. " And as for dancing," she said, quickly seizing
the first means of escape, " I know nothing about it.
I have never been at one — I am going to one in a
fortnight."

" And so am I," Lewis said.

" I am very glad ; but you are different, no doubt. You
have lived abroad, where they are always dancing. They
have different customs, perhaps, there. It was not in-
tended that I should go to any in the country. We
are to spend the next season in London. But I was so
silly (I told you I was silly) that I insisted to go, thinking
it would be delightful. I don't at all wish to go now/-
said Lilias, drawing herself up with great dignity.

Lewis had been following all she said with so much
devotion that he felt himself suddenly arrested too by this
stop in the current of her feelings.

" Is it permitted to ask why ? " he said. " I hope not
because I am to be there ? "

Lilias paused for a moment uncertain ; then, " I am glad
you are to be there, and I hope that we shall dance
together," she said> making him a beautiful, gracious little
bow like that of a princess, in her grace and favour according
him the boon which he had not yet ventured to ask.

Lewis' hat was off in a moment, and his acknowledg-
ments made with enthusiasm. He thought it the most
beautiful and charming departure from the conventional,
while she on her side thought it the most natural thing in
the world. But at this moment the others turned back
upon them in a tempest of laughter. Katie had recounted
their recent conversation to Philip, and Philip had received
it with all the amusement which became the occasion.

" Lilias," Katie cried, " Philip says he will be frightened
to go to his own ball. If you say no to him, he will just
sink down through the floor."

"You will never be so hard upon us as all that," said
Philip, not quite so bold when he looked at her, but yet
with another laugh.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 133

Lilias blushed scarlet ; the idea of ridicule was terrible
to her as to all young creatures. She looked at them
with mingled shame and pride and disdain -and fear. Could
there be anything more terrible than to be absurd, to be
laughed at ? She could not speak for a choking in her
throat. And Lewis, who had not yet had time to replace
his hat upon his head, or to come down to an ordinary
level out of his enthusiasm of admiration and pleasure,
felt Katie's quick eye upon him, and was discomfited too.
But love (if it was love, alas !) sharpened his wits.

" It is a pity," he said, " that I do not understand the
pleasantry, that I might laugh too. A stranger is what
you call left out in the cold when you make allusions which
are local. Pardon me if I do not understand. You are
going to the river and the high-road ? "

" Oh, not me ! " cried Lilias. " Katie, you know I must
not go this way ; I meant to say so at once, but I did
not like to disturb you. Good-bye. I can run home by
myself."

"We are all coming," Katie said, somewhat sullenly.
She had not meant any harm. Katie turned unwillingly
and accompanied her friend along the unsheltered carriage
road through the park towards the old castle.

While she thus made up for her inadvertent fault,
Lewis walked slowly, and with a certain solemnity, by
Lilias' side towards Murkley. He was suddenly stilled
and calmed out of his excitement by the mere act of turn-
ing towards the old castle. He said, in a subdued voice,
" I will go, if you will permit me, and pay my respects
to Miss Jean. It is possible that she might wish for a
little music : " which he said with a sigh, feeling in his
heart that it was necessary to crush this dangerous senti-
ment in his heart, to flee from the dangerous bliss and
elation that had filled his soul, and to establish himself
steadily- beyond any doubt in his more sober fate.

134 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER XXIII

THEY walked together very quietly towards the old house.
The sound of the voices of Philip and Katie behind them
seemed to save them from the embarrassment of saying
nothing, and it seemed to Lilias that it was a very friendly
silence in which they moved along. The fierceness of
her anger died away from her, though she was still annoyed
that Katie should have betrayed her, and Lilias felt a sort
of repose and ease in the quietness of the young man by her
side, who seemed, she thought, instinctively to respect
her sentiment. She gave him credit for a sort of divina-
tion. She said to herself that she had known he would
be kind, that he had such a friendly face, just like a brother.
When they reached the door, she turned round to the
others, saying good-bye, to the discomfiture of both ; for
Katie had promised her mother to have no meetings with
Philip, and Philip knew that were he seen with Katie his
reception at home would not be cordial. But Lilias con-
fined herself to this little demonstration of displeasure,
and allowed her little friend to follow her into the cool-
ness of the old hall, which was so strange a contrast to the
blaze of afternoon sunshine out of which they had come.
Lilias led Lewis across to the drawing-room door. She
gave him a smiling look to bid him follow her.

" I think Jean is here," she said ; then added, softly,
" I would come, too, td hear the music, but I must speak
to Katie ; and two of us would disturb Jean. It will make
her more happy if she has it to herself."

Lewis did not make any reply. All the smiling had
gone out of his face. He was glad to be allowed to go
alone. He said to himself that he would have no more
trifling, that it was unwrorthy of the lady who he was
approaching that he should go to her with regrets. He had
no right to have any regrets, and their existence was
a wrong to her. It might be that the vocabulary of
passion was unnecessary at her calm and serious age, but

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 135

the most tender respect and devotion she was well worthy
of. It would be a wickedness to go to her with any other
feeling. Lewis rose superior to himself as he went across
the hall by the side of that wonderful creature, who had
for the moment transported him out of himself. Let all
that be over for ever. He did not even look at her, but
composed his mind to what was before him, feeling a sud-
den calm and strength in the determination to postpone
it no longer. Lilias even, all unsuspicious as she was, felt
somehow the gravity that had come over him, which
awakened again a little laughing mischief in her mind.
Was it the music, or was it Jean that made him so serious ?
but she restrained the jibe that came to her lips.

Miss Jean was seated, as usual, in one corner of the
large room, within the niche of a deeply-recessed window,
with her table, her silks, her piece of work'. It was not
yet the hour when Margaret retired from the manifold
businesses that employed her. Margaret was not only
housekeeper and instructress. She was the factor,
the manager of the small estate, the farm, everything in
one ; and the universal occupation of Margaret had left
the more passive sister time to grow ripe in the patience
and sweetness of her less important role.

" Jean, here is Mr. Murray," said Lilias at the door.

She held it open for him, and stood smiling by as he
passed in, watching the eagerness with which Jean rose
to her feet, her little entanglement in her work, and startled
anxiety to welcome her visitor.

" Oh, but I am glad to see you," Miss Jean said, holding
out her hand. " I was afraid you had gone away — and
left all that grand music. I was saying to-day where
should I send it after you — but Margaret said you would
never go without saying good-bye. "

" I hope you did not think I could," said Lewis.

She smiled upon him with an indulgent look of kindness.

" I am aware," she said, " that young men will sometimes
put off things — and sometimes forget. But I am very
glad to see you, Mr. Murray. And have you had success
in your fishing ? But, now I remember, it was not for
the fishing you were here — and, dear me, now it comes
back upon me — you were thinking of settling near
Murkley ? "

136 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

Was it mere imagination that her voice was a little
hurried and her manner confused ? He thought so, and
that she had felt the difference between the fervour of
what he had said to her on his last visit and the interval
he had allowed to elapse before repeating it. As a matter
of fact, Miss Jean had never remarked the fervour, or had
not taken it as having any connection with herself.

" I said then that it would much depend on you," he
said.

" On the neighbours, and a friendly welcome — but you
are sure of that," said Miss Jean. " Nobody but will be
glad to see you. I give great weight myself to the opinion
of a whole neighbourhood. It is not easy to deceive —
and there is nobody but what is pleased to hear that
you will stay among us."

" That was not what I meant," Lewis said ; and then
he made a pause of vecneilleinent of serious preparation,
that it might be made apparent how much in earnest he
was.

But Miss Jean did not understand this : and though
she was far too polite to suggest that, as music was his
chief standing ground, he might as well proceed to that
without further preliminary, yet she could not prevent her
eyes from straying towards the piano, with a look which
she was afterwards shocked to think was too significant.
He caught it and answered it with a grave smile.

" After," he said, " as much as you please, as long as
you will listen to me ; but there is now something else,
which I would say first, if I may."

" Indeed," cried Miss Jean, anxiously, " you must not
think me so ill-bred and unkind. If you are not in the
mood for it, I would not have you think of the music. I
am very glad to see you," she added, lifting her soft eyes
to him, " if you should never touch a note. You must
not think I am a person like that, always trying what I
can get — no, no, you must not think that."

" I think you," said Lewis, with a subdued and grave
enthusiasm, " one of the most beautiful spirits in the
world."

Miss Jean looked up with a little start of amazement.
She looked at him, and in her surprise blushed, rather
with pleasure than with shamefacedness. Nothing could

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 137

be further from her mind than any notion that this was the
speech of a lover. She shook her head.

"It is very kind and very bonnie of you to say that.
I am fond that young folk should like my company, it is
just one of my weaknesses. You would not think that,
perhaps, if you knew me better ; but I'm pleased —
pleased to be so well thought of, not because I think it is
true, but because — well, just because it is pleasant, I
suppose ; and then it is fine of a young lad like you to be
so kind," said Miss Jean, smiling upon him with a tender
approval.

Lewis had heart enough to understand this most delicate
of all the pleasures of being beloved, this approbation
and sense of moral beauty in an affection so disinterested,
which filled Miss Jean's virginal soul with sweetness.
Her eyes caressed him as his mother's eyes might have
done, for a mother, too, is doubly happy in the love
bestowed upon her because it is so good, so fine, so seemly
in her children. Lewis understood it, but not at this
moment. There was in him something of the feeling of a
desperate adventurer and something of a martyr, and
the curious excitement in his veins gradually rendered him
incapable of perceiving anything but his own purpose,
and such response to it as he might obtain.

" That is not what I mean," he said, clearing his throat,
for his voice had become husky. " It is not anything good
in me. It is that I think you the best, the most good and
sweet. I have known no one like you," he added, with
fervour. Of all things that he had encountered in the
world, it seemed the most difficult to Lewis to make this
proposal, and to speak of something that could be called
love to this soft-eyed woman, looking at him with tender
confidence, as if she had been his mother. How was he
to make her understand ? It was he who was red and
embarrassed, not she, who suspected nothing, who had
no idea in her mind of any such possibility. Her smile
turned into a gentle laugh as she listened quite attentively
and seriously to what he said. She shook her head, and put
up her hand in gentle deprecation.

" No, no," she said, " you must not go too far. I will
take a little flattering from you on the ground that it's
friendship and your good heart, but you must not give me

138 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

too much, for that would be nonsense. But since you like
me (which gives me so much pleasure), I will be bold with
you, and bid you just play me something," said Miss Jean,
" for I think you are a little put about, and there is nothing
like music to set the heart right ; and afterwards you will
tell me what the trouble is."

"It is no trouble," he said. " You look at me so
sweetly — will you not understand me ? I am quite lonely
— I have nobody to care for me — and when I came here
and saw you, it seemed to me that I was getting into a
haven. But you will not understand ! I am of far too little
account, not worth your thinking of," cried Lewis — " too
trifling, too young, if I must say it ; but if you could care a
little for me, and give me a right to love you and serve you,
it would make me too happy," he said, his voice faltering,
his susceptible soul fully entering into and feeling the
emotion he expressed ; " and if it would give you any
pleasure to be the cause of that, and to have somebody
near you who loved you truly, who would do anything in
the world to please you "

Miss Jean sat gazing at him with a bewildered face.
Sudden lights seemed to break over it from time to time,
then disappeared in the blank of wonder and incredulity.
She was giving her mind to it with amazement, with interest,
with a kind of consternation, trying to make out what he
meant. One moment there was a panic in her face,
which, however, gave place to the faint wavering of a smile,
as if she represented to herself the impossibility of any
meaning that could alarm her. Her attention was so
absorbed in trying to find out what it was that, when
his voice ceased, she made no effort to reply. She drew
a long breath, as people who have been listening to an
orator do when he comes to a pause ; but she was so
unable to comprehend what he could be aiming at that
she was incapable of speech.

" I would live where you pleased," said Lewis ; "I
should do what you pleased. I know enough to fulfil all
your wishes, there could be no failure in that. There is
no worthiness in me, and perhaps you will think me un-
suitable, a nobody, too young, too unimportant, that is
all true ; but, if devotion could make up for it, the service
of my life "

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 139

" Mr. Murray," said Miss Jean at last, interrupting
him, putting out her hand to stop him, " wherefore would
you do all this for me ? What is it you are wanting ? It
must be just my fancy, though I am sure my fancy was
never in that way — but you seem to be making me an
offer, to me that might be your mother. It cannot be
that, it is not possible ; but that is what it seems."

"It is so," said poor Lewis, overwhelmed with such a
sense of his own youngness, triflingness, insignificance, as
he had never been conscious of before. " It is so ! I
want nothing better in this world than that you should
let me love you, and take care of you ; and if you would
overlook my deficiencies, and be my "

" Oh, hush, hush ! " cried Miss Jean, her face growing
very pale. She sat for a moment with her hands clasped
together, the lines of her countenance tremulous with
emotion, " you must not say that word — oh ! no, you must
not say that word. There was a time when it was said to me
by one — that wrould be gone almost before you were born."

If Lewis had been suddenly struck by a thunderbolt he
could not have been more startled, his whole being .seemed
arrested ; he was silent, put a stop to, words and thoughts
alike. He could do nothing but gaze at her, astonished,
incapable even of thought.

. Now whether it was simple instinct, or whether it was a
gleam of genius unknown in her before (and the two things
are not much different), Miss Jean, as soon as she perceived
what it meant, which it was so difficult to do, perceived the
way out of it in a moment. Her first words closed the
whole matter as effectually, as completely, as if it had
never been.

" You would never hear of that," she said. " How
should you ? I was but very young myself ; at an age
when that is natural. He was a sailor and a poor man.
My father would never hear of it, and perhaps it could
not have been ; it is not for me to say. But the Lord
had settled that in His great way, that puts us all to shame.
It is my delight and pride," said Miss Jean, her soft eyes
filling with something that looked like light rather than
tears, " that it was permitted to him to end his days saving
life, and not destroying it. There were seven of them
that he saved. It is a long time ago. You know grief

140 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

cannot last ; it is just like a weed, it is not a seed of God ;
but love lasts long, long, just for ever. There are few
people that mind, or ever take thought about him and
me. But just now and then to a kind heart like you, and
one that understands, it comes into my head to tell that
old story. You would scarcely be born," Miss Jean added,
with a smile that seemed to Lewis ineffable, full of the
tenderest sweetness. He was entirely overcome, He had
not been used to the restraints which Englishmen make
for themselves. His eyes were full and running over. He
leaned forward to her, listening, with a kind of worship
in his face. He had forgotten all the incongruous folly
of his suit as if it had never been, without being ashamed
or wounded, or feeling any obstacle rise up because of it,
between him and her. She had opened her tender heart to
him in the very act of showing that it was closed and
sacred for ever and ever. How long that moment lasted
they neither of them knew. But presently he came to
himself, feeling her soft, caressing hand upon his arm
and hearing her say, " You will go and play me something,
my bonnie man, and that will put us all right."

" My bonnie man ! " — he had heard the women calling
their children so. It seemed to him the most exquisite
expression of motherhood, of tender meaning and unspeak-
able distance, that he had ever heard in his life. He went
away like a child to the piano, and sat down there, hushed
and yet happy, his heart quivering with sympathy, and
affection, and ease, and peace ; and Miss Jean folded her
soft hands in her lap, and gave herself up to listening,
with that look of entire absorption and content which he
thought he had never seen in any other face. The music
wafted her away out of everything troublous and painful,
wafted her feelings to a higher presence, into some ante-
chamber where chosen souls can hear some notes of the
songs of the angels. He had played Beethoven to her
and Mozart on the other occasions, now he chose Handel,
filling the silent room with anthems and symphonies of
heaven. He watched her lean back, her eyes growing dim
with a silent rapture, till it became apparent that all the
circumstances of common life had gone from her, and
that her soul had lost itself in that world of exquisite
sensation and perfect peace.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 14!

This was the end of Lewis's first attempt at wooing.
Before he had done, Miss Margaret came in, who made him
a sign to go on, and listened very respectfully, with great
attention and stillness, making not a movement that could
disturb her sister, or the performance. When it was over,
she said it was beautiful, and that he must stay and take
a cup of tea ; and presently Lilias and Katie joined the
party, two fair young creatures full of what is considered
the poetry of life. Miss Jean had resumed her table-cover
by this time, and sat among her silks, puzzling a little
which to choose, very undecided, and vacillating between
a yellow brown and an orange red for one of the shades of
her carnation. Lilias and Katie both gave advice which
was authoritative, wondering how there could be any
question as to which was the best.

" It is your eyes that are going," Lilias said, in thoughtless
impatience.

" My dear, I suppose it must just be that," said Miss
Jean. She was exactly as she always was, returned into
all the little details of her gentle life, and not one of them
was aware into what lofty regions she had been wandering.
She spoke without the slightest embarrassment to Lewis,
and looked up with all her usual kindness, quite matter-
of-fact and ordinary, into his face. " You will not be long of
coming back," she said, with a smile.

He felt too much bewildered to make any reply ; the
change from that wonderful interview in which he had
been raised from earth to heaven, in which his heart had
beat so high, and his- life had hung in the balance, into-
the calm scene of the drawing-room with its tea-table,
the lady who said that last thing was just beautiful, and
the airy talk of the girls, was so bewildering that he could
not realise it. He had been obliged to rouse himself up,
to act like an ordinary denizen of the daylight, to laugh
and listen even to Katie, as if that strange episode had
never been ; but when he went away he went back into
it, and could not think even of Lilias. With what a
strange gravity as of despair he had gone away from the
side of Lilias to make this attempt which he thought
honour and good faith made necessary, feeling all the
while that in doing so he was giving up the brighter happi-
ness, the more natural life, that had been revealed to him.

•142 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

But, after that interview with Miss Jean, Lilias herself had
seemed tame. He did not wish to stay in her presence,
to behold her beauty ; he wanted to get away to think over
the strange scene that had passed. He made his way
through the park, not thinking where he was going, as
far as New Murkley, then through the woods to the old
quarry and the waterside, and during all this round he
thought of nothing but Miss Jean and her story, and the
way in which she had put him from her without a word of
refusal, without a harsh tone, putting him away, yet
bringing him closer to her very feet. He was refused,
• and that by a woman who, in comparison with himself, was
an old woman, who permitted him to see that his suit was
as folly to her ; that she did not and would not give it a
moment's consideration ; and yet he was not affronted
-nor offended, nor did he feel the smallest shade of bitterness.

CHAPTER XXIV

Miss J EAN returned to her work after tea. It was her time
for taking her walk, either with her sister, if Margaret
had any inclination that way, or by herself, in the con-
templative stillness of the Ghost's Walk. But this after-
noon she sat still over that carnation which was never
ending, with its many little leaves and gradations of colour ;
the carnation in the glass which she was copying had twice
been removed, and perhaps it was the little apology with
which she thought it necessary to account for her departure
from her usual habit of taking a little relaxation at this
time of the day, that aroused Miss Margaret's suspicion.

" I think I must just finish this flower. 1 have been a
terrible time at it," Miss Jean 3aid.

" Ye may well say that," said her sister ; "it will never
be done. You will come back and work at it to frighten
1 i lias' grandchildren after we are all in our graves."

" I will never do that," said Miss Jean firmly, " whatever
I may do."

" There is no telling," said Miss Margaret. " I have
often thought, if there were any ghosts, that a poor thing
in that condition might just wander back to its old dwelling

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 143,

and hover about its old ways, without a thought that it
might be a terror to those that behold it. It would not
be easy to conceive that kindly folk in your house would
be frightened at you."

" But, Margaret, how would a blessed existence that
had passed into the heavens themselves come back to
hover about earthly howffs and haunts ? Oh, no, I cannot
think that. To do a service or to give a warning, you
could well understand ; but just to wander about and

frighten the innocent "

" It is not a subject I have studied," said Miss Margaret,
" though there's Lady Jean out there in the walk has had
a weary time of it, summer and winter, if all tales be
true. The music this afternoon must have been very
moving, and you and your musician, you have grown
great friends. I would have said you had both been
greeting, if there could be any possible reason for it."

Jean's head was bent over her work, but Margaret kept
her keen eyes fixed upon her. It was not a look which
it was easy to ignore.

" It was Handel," said Miss Jean, softly ; " there are
some parts that would just wile your heart out of your
breast, and some that are like the thunder rolling and
the great winds. Friends, did you say ? Oh, yes, we are
great friends ; and we were greeting together, though you
may wonder, Margaret. He was telling me of his own
affairs : and somehow, before ever I knew, I found that
I was telling him about mine : and we both shed tears, I
will not deny, he for my trouble, I am thinking, and me
partly for his."

" And what was his, if one might ask ? " Miss Margaret
said.

" Mostly the troubles of a young spirit that has not
learned to measure the world like you and me, Margaret,
and that has little sense of what is out of his reach and
what is in. And me, I was such an old haverel that I
could not keep myself to myself, but just comforted him
with telling him. He is a fine lad, Margaret ; I never
saw one that was more ready to feel."

" More ready, perhaps, than was wanted," cried Mar-
garet, who could not divest herself of a little indignation
and alarm.

144 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" It's not easy to be too ready with your sympathy," said
her sister, mildly. " Few folk are that."

Margaret was silent, wondering much what had passed.
She stood at the window pretending to look out. She was
perhaps a little jealous of the love of her life's companion.
Had she known nothing of Lewis' intentions, there was
indeed no indication to warn her that Jean's calm had
been thus .disturbed. She had expected some flutter in
her sister's gentle spirit. She had expected perhaps a little
anger, a few tears, or, what would have been worse, an
exaggerated pity for the young man, and a flattered sense
of power on Jean's part. Not one of these sentiments'
was visible in her. An anxious eye could see some traces
of emotion : and that she had been much moved -was
certain, or she would not have " comforted him by telling
him," as she had said. Margaret, who was excited and
uneasy, was almost jealous that, even by way of crushing
this young man's presumptuous hopes, Jean should so far
have admitted him into her confidence as to tell him her
own story ; even that was a great deal too much.

" I would like to know," she said, " what right a strange
lad could have, that is not a drop's blood to us, to come
with his stones to you ? "

" Poor callant ! " said Miss Jean, " he has no mother.
It was perhaps that, Margaret."

" Was he looking for a mother in you ? " cried Margaret,
sharply. If she had detected a blush, a smile, a movement
of womanly vanity still lingering, there is no telling what
Miss Margaret would have been capable of. But Jean
worked on at her carnation in her tremulous calm, and
made no sign. Perhaps it was the last sublimated essence
of that womanly vanity which made her so tender of the
young intruder. She would not hand him over to ridicule
any more than to indignation. It was perhaps the first
secret she had ever kept from Margaret ; but then it was
his secret, and not hers.

" He did not just say that, or perhaps think it," said
Miss Jean ; "he may have thought I would be affronted,
being- a single person : but 'that was what he meant."

" I hope you will never encourage such folly," said
Margaret. "It is a thing that always ends in trouble.
You are not old enough to be a man's mother, and it is very

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 145

unbecoming ; it is even not — delicate. You, that have
been all your life like the very snowdrift, Jean ! "

Jean raised her mild eyes to her sister. They were
more luminous than usual with the tears that had been in
them. There was a look of gentle wonder in their depths.
The accusation took her entirely by surprise, but she did
not say anything in her own defence. If there was any
reproach in the look, it was of the gentlest kind. It was
perhaps the first time in her life that Jean felt herself
Margaret's superior. But she did not take any pleasure
in her triumph. As for Margaret, her suspicion or temper
could not bear that look. She stamped her foot suddenly
on the floor with a quick cry.

" I am just a fool ! " she said, turning all her weapons
against herself in a moment — " just a fool ! There's not
another word to say."

" You were never that, Margaret."

" I have just been that all my life, and I will be so to
my dying day! " cried Margaret, vehemently; and then
she laughed, but not at her own want of grammar, of
which she was unconscious. " And you are just a gowk
too," she added, in her more usual tone.

" That may very well be, Margaret," said Miss Jean,
returning to her carnation ; and not a word more was said
between the sisters of this curious incident.

This episode, however, was lost in the stir of the pre-
parations for Lilias' first appearance in the world. Need-
less to say that no idea of the possibility of any incident
in which she herself was not the central figure ever crossed
the mind of Lilias. A natural conviction so undoubting
would have closed her eyes even if there had been any-
thing to see ; and there was nothing, save in Miss Mar-
garet's anxious fancy. She was the one of the party who
was disturbed by the visit of Lewis. When he came back,
as he did very soon, it is impossible to describe the restless
anxiety of Margaret. She would have liked to see from
some coign of vantage what they were doing ; she would
have liked to overhear their talk. Her impatience was
almost irrestrainable while she sat and listened to Lilias
reading.

And when she went downstairs everything was re-assur-
ing. The music was tranquil and Miss Jean quite calm,

146 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

not even excited and ecstatic, as she had been on previous
occasions. The perfect composure of the atmosphere
smoothed Miss Margaret down in a moment, and, as so
often happens after a false alarm, she was more gracious,
more gay than usual in the relief of her mind.

" Jean," she said, " you must mind that Mr. Murray is a
young man, and wants diversion — not to be kept close to
a piano on a bonnie summer afternoon, when everybody
that can be out is out, and enjoying this grand weather.
I would not say but what music was a great diversion
too — but we are old, and he is young."

" I have had my fill of sunshine," said Lewis, " and
sketched everything there is to sketch within a mile or
two. And I have no piano. I hope you are not going
now to turn me away."

" So you sketch too ? Yes, I heard it before no doubt,
but I had forgotten. You are a very accomplished young
man."

" The tiling to do for me is to turn me loose upon New
Murkley, and let me decorate those great rooms. I have
a little turn that way. I have seen the great palaces of
that architecture, and I have studied. I should be no more
idle, if you would permit me to do that."

" Decorate the rooms ! But that would be worse still
than being idle," said Margaret. " For it would be work
for no use. If no miracle happens to the family, so far
as I can see, Lilias will just have to pull down that fool's
palace, or sell it, one or the other. You need not cry out.
What wrould you do with it, you silly thing, with no money
to keep it up ? "

" I will never sell it," cried Lilias, with flashing eyes.

" It might be made into a hospital," said Miss Jean.
" That has always been my notion, Margaret. We can
make no use of it ourselves, and it would be a heartbreak
to sell it, and Lilias would never like -to pull down such
solid bonnie walls. I doubt even if it would be right. "-

" Did I not say she was a veesionary ? " said Margaret.
*' We would have had no shelter to our own heads, let alone
help for the poor folk, if I had not been here to look over
the house. We are just an impracticable race. One has
one whimsey, and one another. The thing has been built
for a fancy, and our fancies will keep us from getting rid

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 147

of it. I am not sure that I am heartwhole myself. I
would not like to see a pickaxe laid upon it. We will
have to make up our minds before Lilias comes of age.
But, one way or another, Mr. Murray, you will see that
decorations are not j ust our affair. We are meaning to be —
in town for the next season," she added, with the solemnity
which such a statement demanded. " And afterwards
our movements may be a little uncertain, not knowing
what that may lead to. It is just possible that we may
come no more to Murkley till Lilias is of age."

Lewis made no reply. He had to receive the intelligence
with a bow ; it was not his part to criticise, or even to
regret. He had come fortuitously across their path, and
had not even standing ground enough with them to venture
to say that he hoped the friendship might not end there.
To Miss Jean, had he been alone with her, he could have
said this, but not under Margaret's keen, all-inspecting
eye. It was with a mixture of pain and pleasure that he
felt himself in the background, listening to what they
said. The very termination of his plans in respect to Miss
Jean detached him, and made him feel himself a stranger
in the midst of this little company of women, to which he
had attached himself so completely in his own thoughts.
He was outside ; he felt even that he ought to go away, and
that it was rude not to do so ; but at the same time it
was difficult for him to issue forth from the charmed circle.
Once gone, it seemed to Lewis that he could scarcely have
a pretence for coming again.

At last he got up to go away.

" You will come again soon ? " said Miss Jean.

" Bless me, Jean," said Margaret, " you must think Mr.
Murray has little to do that he will come day after day
at your bidding ; though we are always glad to see him,
I need not say," she added, with some ghost of cordiality.

He felt himself standing before her as if she had been his
judge, and looked at her somewhat wistfully ; but there
was no encouragement in Margaret's face. Lewis felt
that the hand she gave him made a gesture of dismissal.

There was no servant to open the door to him, none of
the usual urgency of politeness by which one of the ladies
themselves, if Simon were out of the way, would accompany
a visitor to the threshold. It was one sign of their dis-

148 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

missal of him, he thought, that he was to let himself out
without a word from anyone. As he put his hand, how-
ever, reluctantly upon the door, Lewis was suddenly
aware of a skim and flutter across the oak floor and the
old Turkey carpet in the centre of the hall, and, looking up,
perceived with a start and flush Lilias herself, and no
other, who had darted after him from the open door of
the drawing-room. It lasted only a moment, but he
saw it like a picture. The girl in her light dress, dazzling,
with her fair head and smiling countenance bent towards
him : and beyond her, in the room within that open door,
Margaret standing in an attitude of watchfulness, keenly
listening, intent upon what passed. Lilias had flown after
him, indifferent to all remonstrance. Her sweet voice,
with its little trick of accent, and the faint cadence in it
of the lingering vowels, had a touch of gay defiance in
its sound.

" You are not going away," she said — " you are to be
at the ball — you are not to forget. And perhaps we shall
dance together," she said, with a smile, offering him her
hand.

What was he to do with her hand when he got it ? Not
shake it and let it drop, like an ordinary Englishman. He
had not been bred in that way. He bowed over it and
kissed it before Lilias knew. He would have kissed her
slipper had he dared, but that would have been an unusual
homage, whereas this was the most natural, the most
simple salutation in the world.

It took Lilias altogether by surprise. No lip of man
had ever touched her hand before. Her fair face turned
crimson. She could not have been more astonished had
he kissed her cheek, though the astonishment would have
been of a different kind. She stood bewildered when this
wonderful thing had happened, looking at her hand almost
with alarm, as if the mark would show. She was ready
to say, " It was not my fault," in instinctive self-defence.
And yet she was not offended or displeased, but only
startled. What would Margaret say ? what would Jean
say ? or should she .tell them ? To end this self-dis-
cussion, she fled upstairs suddenly to her own room, and
there considered the question, and the incident, which was
the strangest that ever had happened to her in all her life.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 149

CHAPTER XXV

THE night of the Stormont ball was as lovely and warm as
a July night could be so far north. It was, it is scarcely
necessary to say, full moon, country entertainers taking
care to secure that great luminary to light their guests
home, though in this case it was scarcely necessary, for
no one intended that anything less than daylight should
see them leave the scene of the festivities. The commotion
was great in the old house, where ever}'- servant felt like
one of the hosts, and the house was turned upside down
from top to bottom with an enjoyment of the topsy-turvy
which only a simple household unused to such incidents
can know. Mrs. Stormont had spared no expense ; there
were lanterns hung among the trees, along the whole
length of the avenue ; there were lights in every window ;
even on the top of the old tower there was a blaze which
threw a red reflection on the water, and was the admiration
of the village. To see the ladies of Murkley cross in the
great ferry-boat in their old-fashioned brougham, which
was scarcely big enough to hold the three, and the Setons
after them, wrapped up in cloaks and " clouds," was a sight
that filled all Murkley with pleasure. Miss Jean had a
silver-grey satin, a soft, poetical dress that suited her ; but
Miss Margaret, notwithstanding the season, was in velvet,
with point-lace that a queen might have envied. As for
Lilias, it was universally acknowledged that the ball-
dress which had come for her from London " just beat a'.'*
Nothing like it had ever been imagined in Murkley.
f Mrs. Stormont and her son were both dressed and ready,
standing in the handsome old gallery, where the dancing
was to be. She was in her widow's dress, which so many
ladies in Scotland never abandon, and which, notwithstand-
ing all the abuse that has been levelled at it, is like a con-
ventual garb, very becoming to a person with any natural
claim to admiration. Her rich black silk gown, her per-
fectly plain, spotless cap with the long white, misty pen-

150 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

dants like a veil behind, made Mrs. Stormont, who might
have been buxom in gay colours, into a dignified, queen-
dowager personage of imposing appearance. She was
giving a final lecture to Philip, who was nervous in the
prospect, and felt the dignity of the position too much for
him.

" I think I had better go down to the hall and receive them
as they arrive," he said.

His mother looked at him divided between admiration
and suspicion.

" Well, that is a very good idea," she said. " It will
have a nice effect if you lead the countess up the stairs
yourself instead of leaving it to the servants, and you
may do the same to Margaret Murray, or any important
person, but don't you waste your time upon the common

crowd : and, above all, Philip He gave his shoulders

an impatient shrug, and was gone before she could say
more. Poor Mrs. Stormont shook her head. " It will
be to get a word with that little cutty out of my sight,"
the poor lady said, " and that scheming woman, her
mother ! " she added to herself, with a movement of
passion. She could have been charitable to Katie — but
a manoeuvring mother, a woman that would stick at
nothing to get a good marriage for her girl ! that was what
Mrs. Stormont could not away with, she said in her heart.

It is needless to say that she had divined Philip's meaning
with the utmost exactitude. To get a word with Katie
was indispensable : for, if he was rather more in subjection
to his mother than was for his comfort, Philip was in
subjection to Katie too, and just as much afraid of her.
By good luck he fell into the midst of the group newly
arrived from Murkley, which was followed almost imme-
diately by the Setons. They were almost the first, and
the young master of the house was at liberty to 'stand
among them, and talk while the elder ladies took tea.

While they were talking, and Miss Jean was giving a
last tender touch to the roses on Lilias' bodice, Philip
ventured to Katie's side.

" If I seem to neglect you, Katie, will you under-
stand ? 'z he said.

" Oh, yes, I will understand," said the little cutty, with
a toss of her pretty head, " that you are just frightened

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS^LASS 151

to speak to me ; but I'll get plenty of others that will speak
to me."

Philip in his despair was so wanting in politeness as to
turn his back upon the elders and more important people.

" If you go flirting about with Murray and Alec Banner-
man you will just drive me desperate," he said.

" What would your lordship like me to do ? " said
Katie. " Sit in a corner and look as if I ,were going to
cry ? I will not do that, to please anybody. I have come
to enjoy myself, and, if I cannot do it in one way, I will
in another. "

" Oh, Katie, have a little pity upon me, when you know
I cannot help myself," the unfortunate lover said.

" I will make everybody believe that there's nothing
in it," said Katie, " your mother and all. And is not that
the best thing I can do for you ? "

She was radiant in mischief and contradiction, inexor-
able, holding her little head high, ready to defy Mrs.
Stormont and every authority. Poor Philip knew she
would flirt to distraction with every man that crossed
her path while he was dancing quadrilles with the
dowagers, and doing what his mother thought his duty.
But at that moment among a crowd of new arrivals came
the countess herself, and Katie had to be swept away
by the current. Amuse herself ! She might do it, or
anyone else might do it : but as for the hero of the occa-
sion, poor fellow, that was the last possibility that was
likely to come to him. He walked through the quadrille
with the countess, looking like a mute at a funeral, and
as, fortunately, she was a woman of discretion, she gave
him her sincerest sympathy.

" I think you might have dispensed with this cere-
mony," she said. " But don't look so miserable, it
will soon be over."

" I miserable ! Oh, no ; though I confess I don't care
for square dances," Philip said.

" Nobody does," said the lady, " but still you should
show a little philosophy. Who is that little espUgle that
is laughing at us ? "

She laughed in sympathy, being a very good-natured
woman, but Philip did not laugh ; for of course it was
Katie, radiant with mischievous smiles, upon the arm of

152 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

Mr. Alec Bannerman, with whom she was to " take the
floor " at once, as soon as this solemnity was over. By
the glance she gave him, touching the card which swung
from her fan, he divined that she had filled up that
document, and had not a dance left : and for the rest
of the melancholy performance the countess could not
extract a word from him. Of his two tyrants, Katie was
the worst. There was no telling the torture to which
she subjected him as the evening went on.

Lilias enjoyed her first ball in a much more modest
and subdued way. She stood by the side of her sisters,
whose anxiety about the perfect success of her debut
was great, surveying the scene around her with a smile.
She made the old-fashioned curtsey which they had
taught her to the young men, who came round with eager-
ness, not only to do their duty to the old family tree, but
to secure the hand of the heroine of the evening, the girl
who had piqued the curiosity of the county more than
anyone had done before for generations, and who was at
the same time the prettiest creature, the beauty of the
assemblage. Lilias made her pretty curtsey to them,
and gave each a smile, but she said :

" I do not mean to dance very much. I am not used
to it. You must not think me uncivil. Thank you very
kindly. No, I wish to look on, and see the others. It
is so pretty. If I were to dance, I should not see it."

Some of the suppliants were entirely discomfited by this
novel reception ; they retired in offence or in dismay ;
but those who \vere more discerning exercised a little
diplomacy, and from time to time, " the Lily of Murk-
ley," as Mrs. Stormont, for the greater glory of her enter-
tainment, had called the girl, was led forth by a gratified
partner, to the envy of the others. Her success in the
obstinacy of her determination not to accept everybody,
gave a little excitement of triumph to Lilias. She was
pleased with herself and with everybody. As for the
sisters, there can be no doubt that this singular beha-
viour brought on them a momentary cloud.

" I see Katie Seton dancing every dance," Miss Jean said,
with an air of trouble.

She looked wistfully at the partners whom Lilias sent
away. And even Miss Margaret for the first moment was

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 153

disappointed. The idea that anyone could imagine her
child, her little princess, to be neglected, fired her soul,
and it was all she could do to restrain herself when Mrs.
Seton came bustling up to interfere.

" Dear me ! dear me ! " cried that energetic woman,
" do I see Lilias without a partner ? I could not believe
my eyes. No, no, you'll not tell me that the young
men are so doited ; there must just be some mistake.
No doubt there is some mistake. They are frightened
for you two ladies just like two duennas. A girl should
be left to herself for a little. But just let me "

" You'll observe, if you will wait for a moment," said
Miss Margaret, with dignity, " that Lilias does not just
dance with everybody. It is not my pleasure that she
should. I am not one that would have a girl make herself
cheap."

" But not because she looks down upon any person, >s
cried Miss Jean, eagerly, " because she is not just very
strong, and we insist she should not weary herself, as
it is her first ball, and she is not used to it."

Thus they took upon themselves the blame : while
Lilias stood smiling by, and from time to time accepted
the arm of a partner more fortunate than the rest, leaving
her sisters in a nutter which it was difficult to conceal. •

" Now what could be the reason of her choosing him ? "
Miss Jean whispered, in a faltering voice.

" Oh, just her ain deevil," cried Miss Margaret, moved
out of all decorum. " I think the creature will just
drive me out of my senses."

" But she has good taste," said Miss Jean, wistfully,
" on the whole."

This action upon the part of Lilias changed to them
the whole character of the evening. They would have
liked that she should have been like Katie, besieged by
partners. The partners, indeed, had besieged her, but
the company was not aware of it, and it was possible that
other people besides Mrs. Seton might suppose it to be
neglect.

This was not the only way in which Lilias signalized
herself, though fortunately it was only a few who were
conscious of what she did. She was dancing with Philip
Stormont, whom, with a sense of the obligations of a

154 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

guest, she did not refuse, at the lower end of the gallery,
far away from the inspection of the greater ladies of
the party. Poor Philip looked very glum indeed, especially
when Katie, at a height of gaiety and excitement, which
betrayed some sentiment less happy below, came across
him. He had never danced with Katie the whole evening
through, and as her enjoyment grew, his countenance
became heavier and heavier. Poor Philip was too far
gone to attempt any semblance of happiness ; he turned
round and round mechanically, feeling, perhaps, a little
freedom with Lifias, an emancipation from all necessity
to talk and look pleasant.

" Look at Philip Stormont revolving," Katie said to
Lewis, with whom she was dancing ; " he is like a figure
On a barrel organ. I suppose he is tired, poor fellow.
Perhaps he .has been fishing all day, Mr. Murray. You
admire him for fishing all day : and you have been doing
nothing but playing the piano. I am sorry for Lilias ;
he is dragging her about as if she -were a pedlar's pack.
Let us go round and round them," cried that spiteful
little person, pressing her partner into a wilder pace.

" You must not be cruel," said Lewis ; " you will be
sorry to-morrow if you are cruel."

" Cruel ! " cried Katie — " he never asked me till it
was far too late. Was I going to wait for him — he that
has always come to us as long as I can recollect ? — •
and he never asked me. I want to show him the differ-
ence," Katie cried.

Next moment she begged her partner to stop, that she
was out of breath. The poor little girl was too young
to be able to keep the mastery over herself all the evening.
The tears were very near her eyes as she laughed in
Philip's face, who had come ponderously to a stop also
close to her.

" I hope you are enjoying your ball," she said, mali-
ciously. " It is a beautiful ball, and you have danced with
all the best people, — you would, of course, in your own
house," Katie cried.

Philip was beyond speech ; he heaved a sigh, which
nearly blew out the nearest lights, and cast a pathetic
look at her.

" Oh, yes, I have seen you ; you have been enjoying

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 155

yourself," Katie cried, and laughed. "I am quite
ready, Mr. Murray."

Upon this Lilias darted in, clapping her hands softly
together as they do in childish games.

" We will change partners," she cried. It seemed to
Lewis that he had bounded suddenly into the skies when
she laid her hand on his shoulder. * " Quick, quick, that
they may not stop us," Lilias said.

And Lewis was not reluctant. They flew off together,
leaving the other two astonished, confused, looking at
each other.

" I suppose we may as well dance," said Philip, and
then he poured forth his heart. His little tormentor was
taken by surprise. " Oh, what a wretched night ! "
said poor Philip. " I have been wondering whether it
would ever be over, and now that I have got you, it is
against your will. I will never forget Lilias Murray
for it all the same. That's what a good girl will do for
you — a real true, good girl, by Jove, that does not mind
what anybody thinks."

" And I am a bad girl, I suppose ? " said Katie, held
fast in his arm, and carried along against her will, yet
with a thrill of pleasure which had been absent from
all her previous merry-making.

" Oh ! I don't know what you are," cried the angry
lover. " You are just you ; there is nobody else. Oh !
Katie, how ar,e we to get out of this ? I cannot go through
such another night. If I had not got you, what would
have happened to me ? "

" Nothing," cried Katie, almost sobbing, determined
to laugh still at all costs ; " you would just have gone
to your bed and had a good night's rest."

" I think I would have gone to the bed of Tay," cried poor
Philip.

She laughed upon his shoulder till he could have beaten
Katie, until he suddenly found the sound turn to crying,
when Philip grew frightened and abject. He took her
downstairs, as soon as she had recovered a little, to have
some tea, and caught up the first shawl he could find and
wrapped it round her, and led her out into the flower-
garden, where the night odours were sweet from the in-
visible flowers, and the tower threw a deep black shadow,

156 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

topped by the glare of the light which rose red and smoky
against the shining of the moon. There were various
other pairs about, but they kept in the moonlight.
Philip and Katie felt themselves safer in the dark, and
there lingered, it is needless to say, much longer than
they ought.

" Are you shocked at my behaviour, Mr. Murray ? "
said Lilias. " Should I not have done it ? Perhaps I
should not ; but they were so unhappy. And I thought
you would never mind. I do not think I would have
done it if it had not been you."

" That is the best of all," said Lewis.

" What is the best of all ? It was taking a liberty —
I am very conscious of that ; but Jean says you are full
of understanding. And you saw, didn't you, as well as
me ? Why • should people come between other people,
Mr. Murray ? If I were Philip's mother' — you need not
laugh "

" What should you do if you were Philip's mother ? "
he said.

" I would never, never stand between them. How
can she tell she might not be spoiling his life ? You read
that in books often. Philip is not the grand kind of man
who would die for love

" Do you think that would be a grand kind of man ? "

" Oh, don't you ? I would like to live among that kind
of people. It would be far finer, far simpler, than the
common kind that die just of illnesses and accidents like
beasts. I would like to die by my heart."

" I don't think Mr. Stormont will die."

" No, he is not good enough," said Lilias, "he is afraid
of his mother. I am a little afraid of Margaret, too ;
but I would not do an ill thing, I think, even if she wanted
me. To be sure, she never would want me. Do you
know, I have had my way to-night ; I have just refused
the people I did not like. Katie dared me to do it, and
Jean said I must not do it ; but I did it — I was determined
I would ; and Margaret knew nothing about it, so she
could not forbid me," said Lilias, with a laugh.

" That was very prudent, when there is only one you
are afraid of, not to let her know."

" I did not keep it from her on purpose," said Lilias,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 157

half -off ended. " Mr. Murray, do you see that they have
gone away downstairs ? I am afraid they may be silly
now they are together. Don't you think we should go
too ? "

" I will do whatever Miss Lilias pleases," said Lewis,
" and go where you like best. After this you will give
me one other little dance — just one ; that was like heaven."

" Heaven ! " cried Lilias, scandalized. It seemed pro-
fanity to her innocent ears. " That will be the way,"
she said, somewhat severely, " that people permit them-
selves to speak abroad ? I have always heard- — • — But
I am sure you did not mean it. It was very nice. I
suppose, Mr. Murray, you dance very well ? "

" I am not the judge," said Lewis, laughing, but confused
in spite of himself.

" Neither am I," said Lilias, calmly, " for I have never
danced much with gentlemen. But you do not bump
like most ; you go so smoothly, it was a pleasure. But I
wonder where Katie is ? Doesn't it seem to you a long
time ? "

" It is only a moment since we have been, together,"
Lewis said.

" Do you think so ? Oh ! I am afraid a great many
moments — even minutes. Look ! Mrs. Stormont is
beginning to be uneasy — she is looking for Philip. Oh !
come before she sees "

They hurried downstairs, Lilias leading the young man
after her, with a guiding hand upon his arm. The great
hall door was standing open, the freshness of the summer
night coming in, close to the house a dark belt of shadow,
and beyond the shadow, and beyond the shrubberies and
garden paths clear in the moonlight. It could only have
been by instinct that Lilias penetrated round the corner
to the lonely spot in the darkness where the two lovers
had betaken themselves, and where Katie, after her
hysterical outburst, had become calm again and recovered
command of herself. The darkness, and the moonlight,
and the soft noises and breathings of the night, and the
neighbourhood of the other pair, mounted into the head
of Lewis. He scarcely knew what he was doing. He said
in a whisper, " Do not interrupt them. Wait here a little,"
not knowing what he said.

158 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

Lilias did not object, or say a word. She took the role
of sentinel quite calmly, while he stood by her, throbbing
with a thousand motives and temptations. His own
conscious being seemed arrested, his reason and intelli-
gence ; bold words came into his mind which he wanted
to whisper to her — he bent towards her, in spite of himself
approaching her ear. How was it that he said nothing ?
He could not tell. His heart beat so fast that it took
away his breath. Had he not been so entirely trans-
ported out of himself he must have spoken, he must have
betrayed himself. He felt afterwards, with a shudder,
as if he had been on the edge of a bottomless pit, and
had been kept on firm standing-ground not by any wisdom
of his, but by the rapture of feeling which possessed him.
He had kissed her hand in her own house without any
hesitation or 'sense of timidity, but he did not do it now.
He did not even touch with his own the hand that lay
on his arm. He was in a sort of agony, yet ecstasy.
" Wait a little, wait a little," was all he said. And Lilias
took no fright from the words. She did not know how
near she was to some confession, some appeal, that would
have startled her at once out of her usual freshness and
serenity. They stood close together, like two different
worlds, the one all passion and longing, the other all
innocent composure and calm. But by degrees Lilias
became impatient of waiting.

" You are kinder than I am," she whispered, " Mr.
Murray. It is a little cold, and Mrs. Stormont will be
looking everywhere for Philip. We must not stand any
longer, we must try to find them. Do you see nothing ? "

" Nothing," said Lewis, with a gasp of self-restraint.
His face seemed nearer to her than she expected, and
perhaps this startled Lilias. She gave a sudden low cry
through the stillness.

" Katie ! are you there ? Katie ! are you there ? "

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 159

CHAPTER XXVI

MRS. STORMONT felt that all was going well. Philip had
not shown any great degree of gaiety, but he had done his
duty like a man.

She had seated herself between Miss Margaret and Miss
Jean, and, well-pleased, was receiving their congratula-
tions upon the success of everything, when it suddenly
occurred to her that amid all the mazes of the dancers
Philip was not anywhere visible. She watched with
increased anxiety for a time ; but after all he might have
taken down some lady for refreshments, or to get a breath
of fresh air after the dance.

" They will catch their death of cold," she said, " those
thoughtless things ! I have little doubt my Philip is
away into the moonlight with some of them, for I cannot
see him."

" Bless me ! it will be our Lilias," said Miss Margaret.

" Oh, I'll run and see that she has her cloak," cried
Miss Jean, starting to her feet, but both the elder sister
and the mother protested against this extreme care.

" They must just take ttteir chance," said Miss
Margaret. " We cannot be always after her."

" And my Philip will take care of that," said Mrs.
Stormont.

But after this alarm, the eyes of all were busy, watch-
ing for the truants. A vague uneasiness was in Mrs. Stor-
mont's mind. At last her suspense got too much for her.
She left the sisters, under pretence of speaking to another
old friend, but once free stole towards the door, and out
upon the wide old staircase, which was full of sitters-out.
Mrs. Stormont escaped with difficulty from the too-zealous
cavaliers, who were anxious to take her down for the
cup of tea she professed to be in search of. She could
hardly get free from their importunities. The door was
wide open ; the chill that comes before dawn was stealing
in, but even when she looked out, shivering, from the
threshold some officious person insisted on talking to her.

i6o IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" Yes, yes, it is a fine night, and the moon is just beauti-
ful— but, for my part, I think it's very cold, and I wish
those incautious young creatures would not wander about
like that, with nothing on them. If I could see Philip,
I would send him out to beg them to come in."

She stood on the step, drawing her shawl round her,
looking out with great anxiety into the gloom. It was
just trembling on the turn between darkness and light :
ten minutes more would have betrayed to her what was
taking place under the shadow of the bushes — the change
of partners once more in the little group at the corner of
the house. But it is impossible to tell what a bound of
relief Mrs. Stormont's sober heart gave when suddenly,
coming forward into the light, she beheld the welcome
figure of Lilias, all \vhite and fair, leading rather than
being led by Philip. There was a look which was half-
shame and half-mischief in Lilias' eyes. She was a con-
scious deceiver, yet enjoyed the vole. Her eyes were
shining, dazzled with the light, as she came out of the
darkness, a blush upon her face, a little shrinking from
the gaze of the happy mother, who was so thankful to
make sure that it was Lilias.

" Oh, my dear child," she cried, " is that you ? and
what do you mean, you selfish loon, by keeping her out
in the cold ? "

As she addressed him with this abusive expression, Mrs.
Stormont laid her hand caressingly upon Philip's other
arm. He had not looked so happy all the evening. She
turned and went in with him, ordering her son to get his
bonnie lady something to warm her after stravaighing like
that in the dark. Poor lady ! she did not see little Katie,
her heart fluttering in her throat, who stole in after, and
hurried off to her mother, while the mistress of the feast
had her back turned. Lewis took her back to Mrs. Seton
very gravely, and Katie was frightened for once in her
life, but presently, finding no harm come of it, shook
herself free of all unnecessary tremors, and was flying
over the floor with Alec Bannerman, who had been look-
ing for her everywhere, as he was telling her when Mrs.
Stormont came into the room radiant. That lady went
back to the sisters, nodding her head with satisfaction.

" It was just as we thought," she said. " They were

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 161

out for some fresh air, the monkeys ! Fresh air ! — it was
like December ! But I'm glad to tell you my boy had
the sense to put a shawl upon her, and they're safe now
in the tea-room, where I bade him give her some wine or
something to warm her. So now your minds can be at ease."

How much at ease her own was ! She left them to seat
herself beside another county lady, whose sons, poor soul,
were wild, and gave her a great deal of trouble : and
there discoursed, as women sometimes will, upon the
perfections of her Philip, not without a gratified sense
that the other sighed over the contrast. But Margaret
and Jean were not so much relieved as Mrs. Stormont.

" It is not like our Lilias," Margaret said. " I hope -she
will not learn these unwomanly ways. Out in the dark
with a long-leggit lad like yon Philip, that his mother
thinks perfection — I am disappointed in her, Jean."

" It will have been some accident," said Jean, cast
down, yet faithful.

" Accident ! — how could it be an accident ? I hope it
is not the appearance in her of any lightrheadedness. I
would shut her up for the rest of her life if I thought
that."

" How can you think so, Margaret ? " cried Jean,
indignantly. " There are no light-headed persons in our
family."

" But she is of her mother's family as well as ours,u
said the elder sister, seriously. " You can answer for
your own blood, but never for another. Have you been
out too, Mr. Murray ? There is a breath about you of
the caller air."

" That is a pretty word, the caller air," said Lewis. " It
is just upon dawn, and the birds will soon be singing ;
but I think it is too cold for the ladies to go out. They
are very brave not to mind."

" Brave ! — I call it foolhardy ; and, indeed, if it's on
the turn of the dawning, as Mr. Murray says, I think,
Jean, we should be making our, way "

" Margaret," cried Lilias in her ear, " I have got it
upon me ! Now I am going to dance every dance. It is
just a sort of a fever, and, when you take it, it must run
its course. Was this the dance you asked me for ? !l
the girl said, turning and holding out her hand to Lewis.

6

162 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

Her eyes were shining, her face full of animation, the thrill
of the music in her frame.

Lewis was so much entranced gazing at her that he
scarcely realized the boon she was offering him. Did she
mean to turn his head ? She who had refused half the
people in the room, and now gave herself to him with this
sweet cordiality. The sisters sat and looked at each other
when the pair floated .away.

" It is because she thinks him a stranger, and a little out
of his element," said Jean, ever ready with an apology.

" A stranger ! He is just a beautiful dancer. Very
likely he would be clumsy in a reel ; but nobody dances
reels nowadays. And as for those round dances (which
I cannot say I approve of), he is just perfect. I don't
wonder Lilias likes to dance with him. But I hope she
will not just put things into his head," Margaret said.

" Oh, no," said Jean — " I don't think she will do that."

It was not till two hours later, in the lovely early day-
light, that the Miss Murrays left the Tower. Though there
was not much room in the brougham, they sat close to take
Mrs. Seton and her daughter into it, Katie, much subdued,
sitting on Miss Margaret's velvet lap, upon the point
lace which was almost the most valuable thing she
possessed.

When they were in the ferry-boat, Lilias desired to be
allowed to get out of the carriage, and, with their fleecy
white wraps about their heads, the girls went to the bow of
the boat and stood in the fresh light looking out upon the
silent river, which lay in that ecstasy of self-enjoyment,
brooding upon all its shadows, and reflecting every
gradation of light, which Nature is possessed by in hours
when man is, so to speak, non-existent. The birds sang
as if they had never known before what delight there was
in singing, and were all trying some new carols in an enthu-
siasm of pleasure, breaking off and beginning again as if
they had never sung them before this day. And the
shadows were all made of light, as well as the illuminations,
and everything was glorified in the water which repro-
duced the bank and the foliage and every sleeping cottage.
There was a little awe in it, it was so bright, so limpid and
serene. Lewis, who was crossing with them, leaned over
the side of the boat, and did not even speak when they

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 163

approached him : and when Katie began her usual chatter,
though even that was subdued, Lilias stopped her with a
movement of her hand.

" They are all at their prayers," said Lilias. She spoke,
not quite knowing what she meant ; for it is doubtful
whether this is enough to express that supreme accord and
delight of Nature in her awakening, before she has begun
to be troubled by her unruly inmate, man.

But Katie was not to be restrained for long. She ac-
quiesced for the moment, her little soul being influenced
for about that space of time. Then she got her arm round
that of Lilias, and drew her aside.

" It is very bonnie," said Katie, " but I must speak to
you. You never came home from a ball in the morning
before, or you would not be so struck with it. It's always
like this except when it is raining. Lilias, oh ! I want
to tell you ; I will never forget what you did to-night, nor
Philip either. He is just silly about it. He says that's
what a good girl will do for a friend. I was just at the
very end of what I could bear — I would have been
hysterical or something. Fancy, bursting out crying in a
ball-room ! I believe I would have done it ; I could not
have put up with it a moment longer. That was why we
went out upon the grass ; it was very damp," said Katie,
looking at her slippers. " I don't know what mamma
will say when she sees my shoes."

" I wonder," cried Lilias, half disgusted, " that you
can think about your shoes."

" I am not thinking about them — I am thinking what
mamma will think. But, Lilias, that's not what I was going
to speak of. We will never, never forget it, neither him
nor me." (This is perfectly good grammar in Scotch,
which was Katie's language, though she was not aware of
it.) " And, Lilias, do you think you would, just out of
kindness, keep it up for a while, like that ? "

" Keep it up ? — like what ! " Lilias was bewildered,
and looked in Katie's face for an explanation.

" OJi, surely you know what I mean. It would be "no
harm ; I am the only person it could hurt, and it is I that
am asking you to do it. Oh ! Lilias, it is only to make
Mrs. Stormont believe that it is you that Philip is after,
and not me."

6*

164 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" Katie, are you crazy ? Me that Philip is — after !
Oh ! how can you say such vulgar things ? "

" Why should it be vulgar ? " said Katie, growing pale
at this reproach ; " it is true. Philip has been after me
as long as I can remember. What would you have me

poetry, it cannot be true.'-1

" It is very well for you to say that ; in the first place,
you have no one — after you ; at least, not as yet. And
then you are a grander person than I am. It might suit
you to talk of love, every day, but it would not suit me —
oh, no 1 But that does not alter the thing ; or, if you
like to change the word, I am sure I am not heeding : if

you will only, only Oh ! Lilias, for the sake of

friendship, and because we all knew each other when we
were little things — if you would only let Mrs. Stormont
think that he was in love with you ! "

A flush of somewhat angry pride came over the face
of Lilias. She drew her arm away from Katie's clinging
grasp, ,which scarcely would consent to be detached.

" I don't know what you mean. I think you must
want to insult me," she cried.

" What good would it do me to insult you ? " cried
Katie, reproachfully. " Instead of that I am just on my
knees to you. Oh ! don't you see what I mean ? We
want to gain a little time. If she does not consent, nobody
will consent, nor even mamma, and never, never papa.
They will not go against his mother. And Philip is very
dour : he would quarrel with her, if it came to a struggle.
That is what I am frightened for. If she thinks it is you,
she will never stop him from coming. She will be so
pleased, she will do whatever he likes, and we will be able
to meet almost every day, and no suspicion. Oh ! Lilias,
what harm would it do you ? '-'- cried Katie, clasping her
hands.

Lilias was taken entirely by surprise. Her action in
the midst of the dance had been quite unpremeditated.
She had been struck by sudden pity to see Philip so dark
and gloomy, and little Katie, in her excitement, so near
to self-betrayal. She looked with dismay now at the little

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 165

pleading face, so childish, yet occupied with thoughts so
different from those of a child. To think the elder ladies,
Katie's mother, her own sisters, should be so near and so
little aware what was passing.

" How could I pretend anything like that ? " she said.
" I would be ashamed. I could not do it. And what
would it come to in the end ? "

" It would all come right in the end, if we only could
have a little time," said Katie. " Oh, Lilias, here we
are at the shore. Just say yes, or I will break my hesart."

" Why should you break your heart ? " Lilia said,
looking with dismay and trouble upon the little counte-
nance just ready to dim itself with weeping, the big tears
just gathering, the corners of the mouth drooping.

But next moment the boat grated on the shore. Lewis
came forward to give them his hand. The brougham,
with a little plunge and roll, came to land, and Mrs.
Seton's voice was heard with its habitual liveliness and
continuance.

" No, no, we'll not give you that trouble. We will
just run home, Katie and I ; it is no distance. No, no, I
could not let you put yourself about for me, and Lilias
in her satin shoes. Katie's are kid, and will take no
harm. We are quite used to it ; it is what we always do.
Good night, or, I should say, good morning ; and many
thanks for bringing us so far. Katie, gather up your
frock, we will be home in a minute," Mrs. Seton said.
" No, no, Mr. Murray, there is no need for you either. In
a minute we will be at our own gate."

Lilias stood in the clear morning light, looking after
them as they hurried away, neglecting the call of her sisters
and the attitude of Lewis, who stood waiting, holding open
the door of the brougham. The still morning, the village
street, without a creature moving, the sleep-bound look
of the cottages, and the two figures disappearing like muffled
ghosts into the lane which led to the manse, was like a
story to the girl — a story into which she had stumbled
somehow in the middle of it, but in which she was about
to play a part against her will. She shivered a little with
the excitement and bewilderment, and also because this
fresh, clear, silvery air, so still, yet tingling with the
merry twitter of the birds, was a little chill too.

6f

i66 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" Lilias, Lilias, do not stand there. And the poor horse
just dropping with sleep, and Sanders too."

"And you will catch your death of cold," added Miss
Jean.

But it was Lewis holding out his hand to help her into
the carriage who roused Lilias. He looked at her with an
admiring sympathy, so full of understanding and apprecia-
tion of her difficulty, as she thought, that it brought her
back to herself. Had he heard what Katie had been
saying ? Did he know the strange proposal that had
been made to her ? She looked at him with a question and
appeal in her eyes, and she thought he answered her with
a re-assuring look of approval and consolation. All this
was imagination, but it gave her a little comfort in her
bewilderment. He put her into the carriage with a touch
of her hand, which seemed to mean more than the mere
little unnecessary help. It did mean a great deal more,
but not what Lilias supposed ; and then the slumberous
old horse and old Sanders, scarcely able to keep his eyes
open upon the box, got the old vehicle into motion again,
and Lewis, too, disappeared like a shadow, the only one
upon the silent road. Margaret and Jean looked like two
ghosts, pale in the light of morning.

" Well, that is one thing well over — but as for sleeping
in one's bed at this hour, with all the birds singing, it is
just impossible," Miss Margaret said.

CHAPTER XXVII

NEXT morning Katie appeared at the old castle before
Lilias had woke out of her first deep sleep. They had
gone to bed after all, notwithstanding that Margaret
pronounced it impossible, and even the two sisters were
an hour late for breakfast. But it was now noon, and
Lilias' windows had not yet been opened. Katie, who
was, in comparison, well used to dissipation, contemplated
her friend's privileges with admiration.

Katie went upstairs after Miss Jean, with various re-
flections upon the happiness of Lilias.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 167

And, when Lilias opened her eyes and saw Katie beside
her, her look of alarm was unquestionable. She jumped
up from among her pillows.

" Is anything wrong ? " she said.

" I just came," said Katie, " to talk over the ball. I
thought you would want to talk it all over. When it is
your first ball, it is not like any other. But we got home
quite safe, and opened the door and were in bed without
waking anyone. And I was up to breakfast as usual,'-'
Katie said.

" Lilias is not used to such late hours," said Miss Jean.
" She never was up so late in all her life, and neither
Margaret nor I have seen the early morning light like that
for years — except in cases of sickness and watching, which
is very different. It was a great deal finer than the ball,
though at your age perhaps it is not to be expected that
you should think so.'?

Katie opened her eyes wide, and gave Miss Jean a
puzzled look. To be sure there were many agitations in
her little soul that did not disturb a middle-aged existence.
She gave a little cough of dissent. It was all that she
permitted herself. And Miss Jean did not leave the
room till Lilias had taken, which she was nothing loth
to do, the dainty little breakfast that her sister had brought
her. This represented the very climax of luxury to both
the girls, and Jean looked on benignant with a pleasure
in every morsel her little sister consumed, which the most
exquisite repast could not have given her.

" Now I will leave you to talk about your dances,'-*
she said ; " but, Lilias, Margaret will like you to be up soon
and ready for your reading. We like you to have a good
sleep in the morning, but not to be idle all day." She
gave them" a tender smile as she went away. " Now you
will just chatter nonsense — like two birds in a bush/'
she said.

Instead of this, Katie ran to the doors, when Miss Jean
departed, to see that they were all closed, and then rushed
back and took her seat upon the bed, where Lilias was
sitting up among her pillows, her fair locks streaming
about her shoulders.

" Oh, I have so much to say to you, Lilias,"- Katie
cried, and threw herself upon her friend and kissed her.

168 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" I should have hated to think of last night if it hadn't
been for you. Oh ! Lilias, you are just going to be our
salvation."

" How can that be ? " said Lilias. " I did not mean

— you,

know it will be so important for Phil and me — and when
you see the power you have, and that only you can do it
— oh ! Lilias, you will not turn your back upon me-^ou
will stand our friend ? "

Lilias turned her head away from her friend. She
was touched by the appeal, and she felt, as every girl would
feel, a thrill of pleasure in being believed in, and in the idea
of being able' to help. Who does not like to be a guardian
angel, the only deliverer possible. But along with this
there came a shiver of alarm. How could she undertake
such an office, and what would Margaret say ?

" I told you in the ferry boat," said Katie, " but you
were sleepy."

" Me ! sleepy ! when it was all so beautiful ! "•

" When you are up all night," said the young philo-
sopher, " you never heed whether it is beautiful or not.
But, any way, you did not understand. You were terrified,
and then )"ou thought it would bring you into trouble,
and then — - — "

" I never thought it would bring me into trouble,"
cried Lilias, indignant. " I was not thinking of myself,
and I was no more sleepy — ! But to do something that
is not true, to pretend — to cheat, for it would be cheat-
ing Oh ! that is just too much, Katie ; that is more

than I can put up with," she cried, with a spring on the
floor. " Will you go away, please, and let me get up ? "

Katie was prudent, though she was offended, and she
was determined to gain her point.

" I will go into the library and wait there," she said.
" But oh ! Lilias, why will you be so angry with me ? "

" I am not angry, if you would not speak such nonsense,"
Lilias cried.

" I will not speak nonsense, I will say nothing to dis-
please you ; but oh ! Lilias, what will happen to me if you
turn your back upon me ? " said the girl.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 169

She went away so humbly, with such deprecating looks,
that Lilias not only felt her anger evaporate, but took
herself severely to task for her sharpness with poor little
Katie.

" After all, she is a whole year younger than me, what-
ever she says," Lilias said, sagely, to herself, " and a year
makes a great difference at our age." Then her heart
softened to Katie ; if anything she could do would smooth
over her poor little friend's troubles, what a hard-hearted
girl she would be to deny it — " Me that does nothing for
anybody, and everybody so good to me ! " Lilias said in
her heart. It began to seem to her a kind of duty to take
upon her the task Katie proposed. If it did them good,
it would do nobody harm. If Margaret got a fright and
thdught that she — she, Lilias Murray of Murkley — was
going to fix her choice upon Philip Stormont, it would
serve Margaret right for entertaining such an unworthy
idea. " Me ! " Lilias cried, with a smile of profound
disdain. When she went into the book-room, which was
sacred to her studies, and found Katie there, she gave her
little friend a condescending kiss, though she did not say
much. And Katie, who was very quick-witted, under-
stood. She did not tease her benefactress with questions.
She was ready to accept her protection without forcing it
into words.

And no doubt, in the days that followed, Margaret and
Jean were much perplexed, it might even be said dis-
tressed. Philip Stormont began to pay them visits with a
wearisome pertinacity. When he came he had not much
to say ; he informed them about the weather, that it
was a fine day or a bad day, that the glass was falling,
that the dew had been heavy last night, with many other
very interesting scraps of information. To the outside spec-
tator, who knew nothing about the conspiracy entered
into by these young people, it would indeed have appeared
very evident that Philip had been converted to his mother's
opinion by the apparition of Lilias at the ball.

Mrs. Stormont heard of her son's proceedings with the
liveliest delight, giving God thanks indeed, poor lady, in
her deceived heart that He had turned her boy's thoughts
in the right direction, and given her this comfort when
she needed it most. And it would be wrong to say that

170 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

Mrs. Seton herself did not feel a certain sense of defeat.
When she met Philip going up the village towards the
castle, the smile and banter with which she greeted him
were bitter-sweet.

Philip listened with wonderful composure. He secretly
chuckled now and then at the ease with which everybody
was taken in. " Even her own mother," he said to him-
self, with the greatest admiration of his Katie.

Miss Margaret did not share Mrs. Stormont's senti-
ments. She had always been afraid of this long-leggit
lad. He was just the kind of well-grown, well-looking
production of creation that might take a young girl's
eye, she felt, before she had seen anything better : and
she blamed herself as much for permitting the ball as
Philip's mother applauded herself for contriving it. Mar-
garet was very far from happy at this period. The more
Philip talked about the weather, and the more minute
were the observations he made about the glass rising, or
the dew falling, the more she looked at him, with a growing
consternation, wondering if it were possible that Lilias
could be attracted by such qualities as he exhibited.

And in the afternoons, while July lingered out, with its
warm days and rosy sunsets, the month without frost,
the genial heart of the year, Lilias' walks were invariably
accompanied by Katie, who, liberated as she was from
visitors at home by Philip's desertion, ran in and out of
the castle at all hours, and was the constant attendant of
her friend. Philip would join them in their walks, which
were always confined to the park, almost every day, and
Lilias, at one moment or other, would generally stroll off
by herself to leave them free. She got a habit of haunting
New Murkley very much during these afternoon walks.
She would wander round and round it, studying every
corner, returning to all her dreams on the subject, peopling
the empty place with guests, hearing through its vacant
windows the sound of voices and society, of music and
talk. How it was that those half-comprehended notes
which entranced Jean and had established so warm a
bond of union between her and the young stranger at
Murkley should always be sounding out of these windows,
Lilias could not tell, for she had professed openly her
want of understanding and even of interest. But, not-

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 171

withstanding her ignorance, there was never a day that
in her dreams she did not catch an echo, among all the
imagined sounds of the great house, from some room or
other, from some corner, of Lewis Murray's music. Perhaps
it was that she met himself so often about this centre of
her lonely wanderings.

Generous though Lilias was, and ready to sacrifice
herself for the advantage of her friends, it is not to be
supposed that when she left those two together to the
mutual explanations and consultations and confidences
which took so long to say, she herself found much enjoy-
ment in the solitude even of her own words, with the sense
in her mind all the time that for the sake of the lovers
she was deceiving her sisters, whom she loved much
better, and in a lesser sense helping to deceive Katie's
parents and Philip's mother, all of whom were more or
tess under the same delusion. It did not make Lilias
happy ; she fled to her dreams to take refuge from the
questions which would assail her, and the perpetual
fault-finding of her conscience. When Lewis appeared
she was glad, for he answered the purpose of distracting
her from these self-arraignments better even than her
dreams ; yet sometimes would be vexed and angry,
disposed to resent his interest in the place as an im-
pertinence, and to wonder what he had to do with it that
he should go there so often and study it so closely, for
he had always his sketch-book in his hand. She was so
restless and uncomfortable that there were moments when
Lilias [felt her sense of propriety grow strong upon her,
and felt disposed to treat the young man haughtily as an
intruder, just as there were other moments when his
presence was a relief, when she would plunge almost
eagerly into talk, and betray to him, only half consciously,
only half intentionally, the visions of which her mind
was full. There got to be a great deal of talk between
them on these occasions, and almost of intimacy as they
wandered from subject to subject. It was very different
from the conversation which Lilias carried on with her.
other companions, though she had known them all her
life — conversations in which matters of fact were chiefly
in question, affairs of the moment. With Lewis she
spread over a much wider range. With that curious

I72 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

charm which the mixture of intimacy and new acquaint-
ance produces, the sense of freedom, the certainty of not
being betrayed or talked over, Lilias opened her thoughts
to the new friend, whom she scarcely knew, as she never
could have done to those whom she had been familiar
with all her life. It was like thinking aloud. Her inno-
cent confidences would not come back and stare her
in the face, as the revelations we make to our nearest
neighbours so often do. She did not reason this out, but
felt it, and said to Lewis, who was at once a brother and
a stranger, the most attractive conjunction — more about
herself than Margaret knew, or even Jean, without being
conscious of what she was doing, to the great ease and
consolation of her heart.

fc But one of these afternoons Lilias met him in a less
genial mood. She had been sadly tried in patience and
in feeling. Mrs. Stormont had paid one of her visits
that day. She had come in beaming with trumphant looks,
with Philip in attendance, who, in his mother's presence,
was even less amusing than usual. Mrs. Stormont had
been received with very cold looks by Margaret, and with
anxious, deprecating politeness by Jean, who feared the
explosion of some of the gathering volcanic elements ;
and Lilias perceived to her horror that Philip's mother
indemnified and avenged herself on Jean and Margaret
by the triumphant satisfaction of her demeanour towards
herself, making common cause with her, as it were, against
her elder sisters, and offering a hundred evidences of a
secret bond of sympathy. She said " we," looking at
Lilias with caressing eyes. She called her by every en-
dearing name she could think ef. She made little allu-
sions to Philip, which drove the girl frantic. And Philip
himself sat by, having indeed the grace to look terribly
self-conscious and ashamed, but by that very demeanour
increasing his mother's urbanity and her triumph. Lilias
bore this while she could, but at last, in a transport of
indignation and suppressed rage, made her escape from
the room and from the house, rushing out into the coolness
of the air and silence of the park, with a sense that her
position was intolerable, and that something or other
she must do to escape from it. So far from escaping
from it, ho\vever, she had scarcely got cut of sight of

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 173

the windows when she was joined by Katie, whose fond-
ness and devotion knew no limits, and who twined her
arm through that of Lilias with a tender familiarity which
made her more impatient still.

The climax was reached when Philip's steps were heard
hurrying after them, and Lilias knew as if she had seen
the scene, what must have been the delight of Mrs.
Storrnont as he rose to follow her, and what the dismay
and displeasure of Margaret and Jean. She seemed to hear
Mrs. Stormont declare that " like will draw to like " all
the world over, and to see the gloom upon the face of her
mother-sisters.

" Oh ! Lilias," Katie cried, " here he is coming ; he
can thank you better than I can ; all our happiness we
owe to you."

Lilias turned blazing with quick wrath upon her per-
secutor.

" Why should you be happy," she cried, " more than
other people — and when you are making me a liar ? Yes,
it is just a liar you are making me ! "

" Oh, Lilias, you are just an angel ? " cried Katie, " and
that is what Philip thinks as well as me."

" Philip ! " cried Lilias, with a passion of disdain. She
cast a look at him as he came up, of angry scorn, as if
his presumption in forming such an opinion was in-
tolerable. She drew her arm out of Katie's almost with
fury, pushed them towards each other, and walked on
swiftly with a silent step of passion which devoured the
way. She was so full of heat and excitement that when
she reached the new house of Murkley, and almost
stumbled against Lewis, who was standing against a tree
opposite the door, she gave a start of passion, and imme-
diately turned her weapons against him. She cast a
glance of angry scorn at the sketch-book in his hand.

" Are. you here, Mr. Murray ? " she cried, " and always
your sketch-book, though I never see you draw anything.
I wonder what you come for, always to the same spot
every day ; and it cannot be of any interest to you."

Lewis, who had not been prepared for this sudden
attack, grew red with an impulse of offence, but checked
himself instantly.

" You have entirely reason," he said, with his hat in

174 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

his hand in his foreign way. " I do nothing ; I am not,
indeed, worth my salt. The sketch-book is no more
than an excuse ; and it is true," he added, " that I
have no right to be here, or to claim an interest "

There is nothing that so covers with discomfiture an
angry assailant as the prompt submission of the person
assailed, and Lilias was doubly susceptible to this way
of putting her in the wrong. She threw down her arms
at once, and blushed from head to foot at her own rudeness.

" Oh, what was I saying ? " she cried — " what business
have I to meddle with you, whether you were sketching
or not ? But it was not you — it was just vexation about —
other things."

His tone, his look (though she was not looking at him),
everything about him, expressed an indignant partisan-
ship, which went to Lilias' heart.

" Why should you have any vexation ? It is not to be
borne ! " he cried.

Lilias was so touched with this sympathy that it at
once blew her cloud away, and made her feel its injustice
more than ever, which is a not unusual paradox of feeling.

" Oh, what right have I to escape vexation ? " she
said. " I am just like other people." And then she
paused, and, looking back, saw the two figures which she
had abandoned in such angry haste turning aside into the
woods. They cared nothing about her vexation, whoever
did so. She4aughed in an agitated way, as though she
might have cried. There was no concealing her feelings
from such a keen observer. "I suppose," she said,
" that you are. tin the secret too ? "

" I am in no secret," said Lewis, and his eyes were full
of indignation F " but that you should be made the scape-
goat— oh,,-forgive4ne ! but that is what I cannot persuade
myself to beafr''

" Ah ! " said Lilias, " how nice it is to meet with someone
who understands without a word ! But I am no scape-
goat— it is not quite so bad as that."

" It ought not to be so at all," Lewis said, with a
touch of severity that had never been seen in his friendly
face before.

Lilias looked at him with a little alarm, and with a
great deal of additional respect. And then she began to

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 175

defend the culprits, finding them thus placed before a
judge so much more decided than herself.

" They don't think I mind — they don't mean to hurt
me," she said.

" But they do hurt you — your delicate mind, your
honour, and sense of right. It is much against my
interest," said Lewis, " I ought to plead for them, to
keep it all going on, for otherwise I should not see you, I
should not have my chance too ; but it is more strong
than me. It ought not to be."

Lilias did not know what to answer him. His words
confused her, though she understood but dimly any
meaning in them. His chance, too ! — what did he mean ?
But she did not ask anything about his meaning, though
his wonder distracted her attention, and made her voice
uncertain.

" It is not so bad for me as it would be for them,"
Lilias said.

And then his countenance, which she had thought
colourless often and unimportant, startled her as he
turned towards her, so glowing was it with generous
indignation. She had used the same words herself, or
at least the same idea, but somehow they had not struck
her in their full meaning till now.

" Why should they be spared at your expense ? But
you have no hand nor share in it," he said. " We must
bear our own burdens."

" But, Mr. Murray," said Lilias, " what should you
think of a friend that would not take your burden upon
her shoulders and help you to bear it ? " The argument
restored her to herself.

" I should think such a friend was more than half
divine," he said.

Lilias knew very well that she was not half divine, and
Katie's declaration that she was an angel roused nothing
but wrath in her mind ; nevertheless she was curiously
consoled in her troubles by this other hyperbole now.

i;6 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER XXVIII

SHE stole in, a little breathless, and desirous of getting
to her room unperceived. The result of so much agitation
was that she had lingered longer than usual. There had
been Lewis in the first place, who had a great deal to say,
and then the lovers, from whom she had broken away in
anger, had taken a long time to reconcile her. It was
late, accordingly, when she got in, and by the time she
had changed her dress, and was ready to appear in the
drawing-room, it was very late, and her sisters were both
waiting for 'her. They did not say anything at that
moment, but contemplated her with very serious looks
during their evening meal. Even old Simon perceived
that something was coming. He showed his sympathy
to " little missie;" by offering her everything twice over,
and anxiously persuading her in a whisper to eat.

"It will do you good, missie," he said in her ear ;
" you're taking nothing." He even poured out some
wine for her, though she never took wine, and adjured her
to drink it. " It will just be a support," he said.

These signs were not wanted to show Lilias that a
storm was brewing. She was a little frightened, yet
plucked up a courage \vhen she heard Margaret clearing
her throat. After all, she had done nothing that was
wrong. But the form which the assault took was one
which Lilias had not foreseen. They returned to the
drawing-room before a word was said. By this time it
was quite evening, the sunshine gone, and a twilight much
more advanced than that out of doors lay in all the corners.
Except the space in front of the windows, the room,
indeed, was almost dark, and the bare walls seemed to
contract and come close to hear what was going to be
said.

" Lilias," said Miss Margaret, " Jean and I have been
consulting about many things. You see, this is rather

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 177

a dear place, there are so many tourists ; and especially
in the autumn, which is coming on, and the meat is just
a ransom. Even in a little place like Murkley there are
strangers, and Kilmorlev iust eats up all the provisions
in the country."

Lilias' heart, which had been beating high in anticipa-
tion, sank down at this in her bosom with a delicious sense
of relief and rest. There was nothing to be said then on
any troublous subject, for who could be excited about
the tourists and the price of meat ? She was glad she
had not taken the wine, for there could be no need for it —
evidently no need.

" I don't know anything about that, Margaret," she
said. " I wish there was no meat at all."

" Yes, you are just a perverse thing about your eating,"
said Miss Margaret — " we all know that."

" And it is not good for you, my dear ; it keeps you
delicate," said Miss Jean.

" Oh ! " cried Lilias, springing from her chair, " was
that all you were going to speak to me about ? And even
Simon saw it, and brought me wine to drink to do me good ;
and it is only about the price of meat and provisions being
dear ! What do you frighten people for, if it is nothing
but that ? "

If Lilias had been wise, she would have perceived by
Margaret's serious looks and the wistful sympathy in
Jean's face that she was far as yet from being out of the
wood ; but, after the little bound of impatience which
was habitual to her, she calmed down immediately, and
made them a curtsey.

" I don't know what is dear and what is not dear," she
said.

" Well, that is a digression," the elder sister said. " We
cannot tell whether you are to be rich or poor — we must
just leave that in the hands of Providence ; but in the
meantime, not just to be ruined and over- run with those
tourist cattle, I was thinking, and Jean was thinking, that
if we were to retire a little and economize, and save two
or three pounds before we go to London — to Gowanbrae."

" To Gowanbrae ! " said Lilias, wondering, scarcely
comprehending.

" My dear," they both said, together, " it will be far

178 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

better for you. You will never be free of engagements
here," Margaret went on, " after that unfortunate weak-
ness of mine about letting you go to Mrs. S torment's ;
and then, you know, we can face the winter quietly, and
get all pur things together for the season. And — what
is it, Lilias ? What is it, my pet ? What is it, my dear ?
Oh, Jean, you said true. It is breaking her heart."

" Margaret ! you will never be hard upon our darling
— even if you cannot approve "

Here Lilias, who had flung herself upon her elder sister,
with her arms round her neck, sprang apart from her
again, clasping her hands together with the impatience of
a child.

" What is it you are saying about me ? " she said.
" Breaking my heart ! when I am just like to dance with
joy ? Gowanbrae ! that is what I want, that is exactly
what I want. Oh, yes, yes, let us go, let us go to-morrow,
Margaret. That will put everything right."

They sat in their high-backed chairs, looking at her like
two judges, yet not calm enough for judges, full of grave
anxiety yet tremulous hope. Margaret put up her hand
to check Jean, who showed an inclination to speak.

" Not a word," she said, " not a word. Lilias, this is
more serious perhaps than you think. All our plans and
all our thoughts are for you. It's your good we are
thinking of. But don't you trifle with us. When you
say that, is it out of some bit quarrel or coolness ? or is
it to cheat your own heart ? or is it a real conviction that
it is for your safety and your good to go away ? "

Lilias stamped her foot upon the floor. She clenched her
hands in a little outburst of passion.

" Oh ! you are just two Oh ! what are you making

such a fuss about ? It is neither for a quarrel nor for
safety (safety ! Am I in any danger ?) nor for any other
silly thing. It is just because I want to go. Oh, Gowan-
brae ! We have not been there for two years. I like it
better than any place in the world. That was what I
was pining for all the time, only I could not remember
what it was ! "

" It was just a little change she was wanting, Margaret,"
Miss Jean said.

Margaret did not make any immediate reply. She

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 179

kept her eyes upon Lilias as a physician keeps his finger
upon a pulse.

" You will get your wish then," she said. " This takes
away the only doubt I had ; and now we're all of one
mind, which is a wonderful blessing in a house. As soon
as the washing is done, and the things ready, we'll start ;
for that will just give them time to put up the curtains,
and put everything right."

This was a somewhat dry ending to so emotional a dis-
cussion, but Miss Margaret, who was not fond of scenes,
considered it best to restore everything to its matter-
of-fact basis as quickly as possible.

The news of the revolution and radical change of all
the conditions of life which had thus been decided upon
reached the stranger with the utmost promptitude and
distinctness. Miss Margaret herself was not aware of
having revealed it to anyone but her confidential maid
when it came like a thunderbolt upon Lewis, something
which it had not entered into his mind to fear.

His surprise was great, a sickening disappointment
came over him ; but yet, along with it, a certain relief.
His mind had been greatly disturbed by the existing posi-
tion of affairs. He had a passing sense that he was glad
in the midst of his downfall.

His face had grown a great deal longer.- This was
an end upon which he had not at all calculated : and
somehow an end of any kind did not seem so desirable
as it had done an hour ago, when none seemed likely.
The reign of Philip and Katie, after all, was not, perhaps,
so much harm.

CHAPTER XXIX

IT was curious how the aspect of everything had changed
to Lewis when he walked up the now familiar way to the
old Castle of Murkley through the sunshine of the July
afternoon.

The ladies were all in, Simon said. He had made an
alteration in his appearance which revealed a high sense
of the appropriate. He had an apron upon his person,

i8o IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

and several straws at his feet, which he stooped to pick up.

" You'll excuse us, sir, if we're not just in our or-
dinary," Simon said. " You see we're packing." Miss
Jean is in the drawing-room, but Miss Margaret is up the
stair."

Lewis stood, with his heart beating, under the old
man's calm inspection.

" I am going to see Miss Jean," he said, " but afterwards
will you ask, Simon, if Miss Murray will grant me an
interview. There is something — I wish to ask her."

" Lord bless us ! " said Simon, " you'll be no mean-
ing "

And then he stopped short, eyeing Lewis, who stood
half angry, half amused under this inspection. The old
servant's eyes had a twinkle in them, and meant much,
but he recollected himself in time.

" You'll .be meaning Miss Margaret," he said. " I'll
allow it's ridiculous, with the two leddies here ; but the
one that is Miss Murray according to all rights is Miss
Lilias — for she is Miss Murray of Murkley, and the other
two leddies, they're just the Miss Murrays of Gowanbrae.
That was, maybe, the General's fault : or, maybe, just
his wisdom and far-seeingness ; for he was a clever man,
though few saw it. Old Sir Patrick, the old man, he was
just the very devil for cleverness," Simon said.

This did not sound like a servant's indiscretion, but
the somewhat free opinion of a member of the family,
which was how Simon considered himself. He made a
little pause, contemplating Lewis with a humorous eye,
and then he said :

" I'll take ye to Miss Jean, sir, and then I'll give your
message to Miss Margaret. I will say in half an hour or
three-quarters of an hour, that they may be sure not to
clash."

" That will do very well.il said Lewis, not knowing
why it was that Simon twinkled at him with so admiring
an eye.

Meanwhile Lewis, unsuspecting that his designs were
so evident, went into the. drawing-room, where Miss
Jean sat as usual. She gave him her usual gentle smile.

" Come away," she said, " Mr. Murray. I am very
glad to see you. I should have sent for you, if you had

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 181

not come. For it will not be much longer I will have the

pleasure We are going away from Murkley for a

time. It is sudden, you will think, but that is just
because we have kept it to ourselves. Murkley is just
a terrible place for gossip," Miss Jean said.

There was a little pause. It was one of those crises
in which there is much to say, but no legitimate means of
saying it. "I am very sorry," said Lewis.

" You see," she said, a little anxiously, " we are not
just free agents, Margaret and me. There is always
Lilias to think of. What is good for her is the thing we
are most guided by : and we think a change will be
good for her."

" And I am sure you are quite right in thinking so,"
said Lewis, hastily. It was a thing he had no right to
say. He reddened with embarrassment and alarm when
he had thus committed himself, and said, hurriedly :

" Are you too busy ? or may I play to you now ? "

" Oh, no, I could never be too busy," said Miss Jean,
" and, as a matter of fact, I have nothing to take me up.
Margaret is just a woman in a thousand. She thinks
nobody can do a thing right but herself. I would be
sitting with my hands before me but for this work that
they all laugh at. And never, never could I be too busy
for music," she said, with a little sigh of satisfaction,
turning her face towards the piano. Lewis was in that
condition of suspense in which a man, with his mind all
directed to the near future, is scarcely conscious what
he is doing in the present. In consequence of this, it
happened to Lewis to do what all artists have to do
sometimes, whether man or woman, seeing that life is
more urgent than art. He played with his hands not
less skilfully, not less smoothly than usual, but he did
not play with his soul, and of all people in the world
Miss Jean was the most sensitive to the difference. He
stopped abruptly when he came to the end of the move-
ment he was playing, broke into a wild fantasia, and
finally jumped up from his seat after a great jar and
shriek of outraged chords, holding out his hands in an
appeal.

r< Pardon ! "- he cried, " pardon ! I cannot play a note
— it is too strong for me, and you have found me out."

i8s IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" You are not well," she said, with ready sympathy,
*' or there is something wrong."

" There is this wrong," he said, " that I think all my
life is going to be settled to-day. You, whom I have
always revered and loved since I first saw you, let me tell
it to you. Oh ! not the same as what happened the other
day when you stopped my mouth. I do not know what
you will think of me, but it was not falsehood one way
or another. I had scarcely seen her then. I have asked
Miss Margaret for an interview, and this time it is for life
or for — no, I will not be fictitious, I will not say death :
for that is not how one dies."

" An interview with Margaret ? " Jean repeated after
him. She grew a little pale in sympathy with his excite-
ment. " My poor lad, my poor lad ! and what is that
for ? "

But she .divined what it was for. For a moment it
startled her indeed.

" It is Lilias you mean ? " she said, in a low and tremu-
lous voice.

He made no reply except with his eyes, in which there
was an appeal to her for pardon and for help. She shook
her head in reply to his look of confusion and appeal.

" She is just the apple of Margaret's eye," she said.

" And I am — no one," said Lewis.

" You must not say that ; but you are not a great man.
And Margaret thinks there is nobody good enough for her.
I would not mind so much myself ; you are young, and
have a kind, kind heart. But you have said nothing
to her ? "

" What do you take me for ? " said Lewis, with gentle
indignation. They sat together and talked for some
minutes longer, forgetting everything else in this entrancing
subject ; then she sent him away, bidding God bless him,
to the more important interview which awaited him. Miss
Jean dried her eyes, in which tears of sympathy and
emotion were standing, as she closed the door upon him.
It was a thing to stir the heart in her bosom. The first
lover of Lilias ! To think that little thing newly out of
the nursery, who had been a baby but the other day,
should have entered already upon this other stage of
existence ! Miss Jean sat down in her window'again and

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 183

mused over it with a tremor of profound sympathetic
feeling in her heart.

As for Lewis, he walked to the library, in which Miss
Margaret awaited him, with a sort of solemnity as men
march to hear their sentence from the court-martial that
has been sitting upon them. He had not much more
hope than Miss Jean had, but he had less submission. He
found Margaret seated in a high-backed chair of the same
order as that which she used in the drawing-room — a
commanding figure. She had no knitting nor other
familiar occupation to take off the edge of her dignity, but
sat expecting him, her hands folded upon her lap. She
did not rise when he came in, but gave him her hand with
friendly stateliness.

" Simon tells me you were wanting to speak to me, Mr.
Murray. It is most likely our old man has made a mistake,
and you were only coming to say good-bye."

" He has made no mistake," Lewis said ; " there is
something I wanted to say to you, to ask you. It is of the
greatest importance to me, and, if I could hope that you
would give me a favourable answer, it would be of import-
ance to you too."

" Indeed ! " she said, with a smile, in which there was
some haughtiness and a shade of derision. " I cannot
think of any question in which our interests could meet."

" But there is one," cried Lewis, anxiously. " And you
will hear me — you will hear me, at least ? Miss Murray,
I once said something to you — I was confused and did not

know — but I said something "

^-Not confused at all," said Miss Margaret. " You
made your meaning very clear, though it was a very strange
meaning to me. It was in relation to my sister Jean."

The young man bowed his head. He was confused now,
if he had not been so then. All that Miss Jean's gentle
courtesy had smoothed over for him he saw now in
Margaret's smile.

" I hope," she said, pointedly, and with the derision
more apparent than ever, " that the answer you got then
was of a satisfying kind."

" I got no answer," said Lewis, with a little agitation.
" Your sister is as kind as heaven ; she would not let me
put myself in the wrong. The feeling I had was not

184 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

fictitious ; I would explain it to you if I dared. She forgave
me my presumption, and she stopped me. Miss Murray,
it is a different thing I have come to speak to you of
to-day."

" I am glad of that," said Miss Margaret—" very glad
of that ; for I may say, since you have thought better
of it, that it was not a subject that was pleasing to
me."

Lewis rose up in his excitement ; the little taunt in her
tone, the sternness behind her smile, the watchful way in
which her eyes held him, all made him feel the desperate
character of the attempt he was making, and desperation
took away every restraint.

"It is Very different," he said — " it is love. I did not
intend it — I had never thought of it — my mind was turned
another way — but I saw her by chance, and what else —
what else was possible ? Oh ! it is very different. Love
is not like anything else. It forces to speak, it makes you
bold, it is more strong than I "

" You are eloquent," said Miss Margaret. " Mr. Murray,
that was very well put. And who are you in love with
that can concern us of the house of Murkley, if I may ask
the question ? I will hope," she said, with a laugh, " that
it's not me you have chosen as the object of your affection
this time."

He looked at her with a pained look, reproachful and
wistful. It did him more good than if he had spoken
volumes. A little quick colour, like a reflection of some
passing light, gleamed over Miss Margaret's face.

" Mr. Murray," she said, " if that is your name, which
you say yourself is not your name — who are you, a stranger,
to come like this to ladies of a well-known family ? I
am not asking who is your object now. If I seemed to
jeer at you, I ask your pardon. I will say all I can — I will
say that I believe you mean no harm, but rather to be
honourable, according to what you think right. But I
must tell you, you are not, so far as I know, in the position
of one with whom we could make alliances. It is kindest
to speak it plain out. It is just chance that has thrown us in
your way, and you take impressions for too seriously," she
added, not without kindness. " There was my sister
Jean, you know; and now it is another. This will blow

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 185

over too, if you will just wait a little, and consider what
is befitting."

She rose up from her high chair. She was more imposing
seated in it than standing, for her stature was not great.
Lewis knew that this was intended to give him his dis-
missal, but he was too much in earnest to take it so easily.

" Let me speak one word," he said. " If I am not great,
there is at least one thing — I am rich. What she wishes to
do, I could do it. It should all be as if there had been
no disinheriting. To me the family would be as great an
interest, as great a desire, as to her. Her palace of dreams,
it should be real. I would devote myself to it — it should
be a dream no longer. Listen to me, I could do it "

" What you say is without meaning to me, Mr. Murray,'*
Miss Margaret said, with stern paleness. "It is better
that no more should be said."

"Without any reference, without any appeal? how do
you know," he said, " that she might not herself think
otherwise — that she might not, if only for the sake of
her dream "

" A gentleman," said Miss Margaret, " will never force
his plea upon ladies when he sees it is not welcome. I
will just bid you farewell, Mr. Murray. We shall very
likely not meet again."

She held out her hand, but he did not take it. He
looked anxiously in her face.

" Can I say nothing that will move you ? " he said.

" I am thinking not, Mr. Murray. When two persons
disagree so much as we do upon a business so important,
it is best to wish one another good-bye. And it is lucky,
as you will have heard, that we are going away. I am
offering you my hand, though you do not seem to see it.
I would not do that if I thought ill of you. Fare-you-
well, and I wish you every prosperity," Miss Margaret
said.

He took her hand, and gave it one angry pressure.
It was what he had expected, but it hurt him more than
he thought. The disappointment, the sadness of leaving,
the blank wall that seemed to rise before him, made Lewis
sad, and made him wroth. It did not seem to him that he
deserved so badly of Fate. He said " good-bye " almost
in a sullen tone. But when he reached the door he turned

i86 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

round and looked at her, standing where he had left her,
watching his departure.

" I must warn you. I do not accept this as final," he
said.

CHAPTER XXX

THE house of Gowanbrae was not an old historical house,
like the castle of Murkley. It had no associations ranging
back into the mists. It was half a cottage, half a country
mansion-house, built upon a slope, so that the house was
one story higher on one side than on the other. The ground
descended from the back to a wooded dell, in which ran
a sparkling, noisy burn, like a cottage girl, always busy,
singing about its work as it trickled over its pebbles.
Everything in the house was bright but homely. It had
always been delightful to Lilias, to whom Gowanbrae
meant all the freedom of childhood, open air, and rural life.
She was not the lady or princess there, and even Margaret
acknowledged the relaxation of state which this made
possible. But when the little family travelled thither
on this occasion, the charm of the old life was a little
broken. Not a word had been said to Lilias of Lewis'
proceedings. She was told drily in Jean's presence by
Miss Margaret, who gave her sister a severe look of warning,
that Mr. Murray had called to say good-bye, but that it
had not been thought necessary to call her.

" You have seen but little of him," Margaret said.
Lilias did not make any remark. She did not think it
necessary to tell how much she had seen of Lewis, and, to
tell the truth, she did not think it certain that an oppor-
tunity of saying good-bye to him personally would not be
afforded to her. But, as a matter-of-fact, there was no
further meeting between the two, and Lilias left Murkley
with a little surprise, and not without a little pique, that
he should have made no attempt to take his leave of her.
She had various agitating scenes with Katie to make up
for it, and on the other hand an anxious visit from Mrs.
Stormont, full of excitement and indignation.

But when the last evening passed, and nowhere in park

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 187.

or wood did there appear any trace of the figure which
had grown so familiar to her, to say a word or look a look,
it cannot be denied that a certain disappointment mingled
with the surprise in Lilias' heart. She could not under-
stand it. Though Margaret thought they had seen so
little of each other, there had been, indeed', a good deal of
intercourse. Lilias was very sure it had always been
accidental intercourse, but still they had met, and talked,
and exchanged a great many opinions, and that he should
not have felt any desire to see her again was a bewilder-
ment to the girl. She did not say a syllable on the subject,,
by which even Miss Jean concluded that it was of no
importance to her, but, as in most similar cases, Lilias
thought the more. She looked out with a little anxiety
as her sisters and she drove to the station in their little
brougham. They passed on the road the rough, country
gig which belonged to the " Murkley Arms," which Adam
was driving in the same direction.

" Are you leaving the country too, Adam ? — all the
good folk are going away," Miss" Margaret said, as they
passed.

" It's no me, mem, it's our gentleman. He's away
twa- three days ago, and this is just his luggitch," said
Adam.

" Dear me, when the season's just begun ! "

" The season is of awfu' little importance to a gentleman
that is nae hand at the fishing, nor at naething I ken of,
except making scarts upon a paper," said Adam con-
temptuously. He was left speaking like the orators in
Parliament, and only half of this sentence reached the. ears
of the ladies as they drove on. This was all Lilias heard
of the young man who had been the first stranger with
whom she had ever formed any friendship : which was the
light in which she thought she regarded him. She had
never talked so much to anyone who was not connected
with her by some tie of relationship or old connection, and
that very fact had added freshness and reality to their
intercourse. It had been a new element introduced into
her life. Why had he gone away without any reason ?
He had said nothing of any such purpose. On the contrary,
they had talked together of the woods in autumn and the
curling in winter, all of which he had intended, she was

• i88 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

sure, to make acquaintance with. Why had everything
changed so suddenly in his plans as well as in theirs ?
It did not seem possible that there should be any
connection between the one and the other ; but a vague
curiosity and bewilderment arose in the girl's mind. But
it did not occur to her to ask Jean or Margaret for informa-
tion. He was Jean's friend : it would have been natural
enough to ask her where he had gone, or why he had left
Murkley ? But she did not, though she could not explain
to herself any reason why.

And the question was one which returned often to her
mind during the winter. The nearest post-town was
several miles off, and there were no very near neighbours,
so that by times when the roads were bad or the weather
wild, they were lonely in Gowanbrae. Of old, Lilias had
never known what it was to have time hang heavy on her
hands. She had a hundred things to do ; but now
insensibly her childish occupations had fallen from her
she could scarcely tell how.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE spring was very early that year. It had been a
severe winter, and even on the moors the leap of the fresh
life of the grass out of the snows was sudden ; but when
the ladies found themselves transported to the fresh green
in Cadogan Place, it is impossible to say what an exhilarat-
ing effect this revelation had upon them. The elder sisters,
indeed, had visited London in their youth, but that was
long ago, and they had forgotten everything but the
streets, and the crowd, and the dust, an impression which
was reproduced by the effect of the long drive from Euston
Square, which seemed endless, through lines of houses and
shops and flaring gaslights. That continuity of dreary
inhabitation, those long lines of featureless buildings, of
which it is so difficult to distinguish one from another, is
the worse aspect of London, and even Lilias, looking
breathless from the window, ready to be astonished at every-
thing, was chilled a little when she found nothing to be
astonished at — for the great shops were closed which

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 189

furnish brightness to an evening drive, and it seemed to the
tired women as if they must have travelled half as far
through those drear}?-, half-lighted streets as they had
done before over the open country. But with a bright
morning, and the sight of the opening leaves between
them and the houses opposite, a different mood came.
Miss Jean in particular hailed the vegetation as she might
have greeted an old friend whose face she had not hoped
to see again.

" Just as green as our own trees, and far more forward,"
she said, with delight, as she called Lilias next morning.

With the cheering revelation of this green, their minds
were fully tuned to see everything in the best light ; but
it is not necessary to enter into the sight-seeing of the
group of rural ladies, all so fresh and unhackneyed, and
ready to enjoy.

But, while they all enjoyed themselves, Miss Margaret
sat in her parlour much more seriously engaged. She
had everything to contrive and to decide, and Lilias'
dress and all the preliminaries of her introduction to settle.
For herself, what could be more imposing than her velvet
and all that beautiful lace ? The only thing that was
wanted was a longer train. The countess had been very
ready to undertake the presentation, and had asked the
party to dinner, and sent them cards for a great reception.
She was very amiable, and delighted to see the Miss
Murrays in town.

" And as for your little sister, she ought to make a
sensation. She ought to be one of the beauties of the
season," the countess said.

The Drawing-room was in the beginning of May. Lilias
was greatly interested in all the preparations for it. She
was put into the hands of a nice old lady who had been a
great dancer in her day to be taught her curtseys, which
was a proceeding that amused the girl greatly. She
persuaded her instructress to talk, and learned with aston-
ished soul a great many things of which she had no idea,
but fortunately no harm : which was the merest chance,
the sisters having given her over in the utmost confidence
to her teacher, not suspicious of anything injurious that
youth could hear from a nice old woman.

Next morning it was a sight to see the two debutantes.

I9o IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

Miss Margaret had a train of velvet sweeping from her
shoulders that made her look, Lilias declared, like Margaret
of Anjou, though why this special resemblance was hit
upon, the young lady declined to say. As for herself, in
clouds of virgin white, it seemed to her sisters that nothing
had ever been seen so lovely as this little lily, who would,
however, have been more aptly termed a rose, with the
colour of excitement coming and going upon her cheeks,
her eyes like dew with the sun on it, her dazzling sweetness
of complexion. Perhaps her features were not irreproach-
able, perhaps her little figure wanted filling out ; but at
seventeen these are faults that lean to virtue's side. She
was dazzling to behold in that first exquisite youthful
bloom, which is like nothing else in the world. When she
came into the room where they were awaiting her, she
made them a curfsey to show her perfection, her face
running over with smiles. And then Lilias grew grave, a
flutter came to her child's heart. Her eyes grew serious
with the awe of a neophyte on the edge of the mysteries
of life.

" When I come back I will be a woman," she said, with
a little catch of her breath.

" No, no, not till you are one- and- twenty, my darling,"
cried Jean, who did not always know when to hold her
peace.

" I shall be a woman," Lilias repeated. " I shall be
introduced to the world — I shall be able to go where I

" There may be two words about that," said Margaret
interfering ; " but this is not a time for discoursing. So
just you gather up your train, Lilias, and let us go away."

Miss Jean went downstairs after them ; she watched
them drive away, waving her hand.

When the carriage drove up to the door, she rushed
downstairs to meet the victorious pair. Lilias was the
first to appear, a little crushed and faded, like a rose that
has been bound into a bouquet and suffered from the
pressure : but that did not matter, for everybody knows
there is a great crowd. But the face was not radiant
as it had been, Miss Jean could not but perceive. There
was a great deal of gravity in it. The corners of the
mouth were slightly, very slightly turned the wrong way.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 191

She came in quite seriously, calmed out of all her excite-
ment. Margaret followed with the same serious air.

" Well, my darling ! " Jean cried, running forward to
meet the girl.

" Oh, it has all passed very well," Margaret said over
Lilias' head.

Jean drew them into the little dining-room, which was
on the ground floor, to hear everything.

" And were the dresses beautiful, and the jewels ? and
was Her Majesty looking well ? and what did she "say to
you ? '•' cried the eager spectator.

" You will just make Lilias take some wine, for the child
is like to drop with tiredness ; and as for me, before I say
a syllable, I must get rid of this train, for it weighs me to
the earth," said Margaret.

" My darling," cried Jean, throwing her arms about
Lilias, " something has happened ! "

Upon which Lilias burst into a laugh, which, compared
with the extreme gravity of her face, had a somewhat rueful
effect. It was a laugh which was not mirthful and spon-
taneous as the laughter of Lilias generally was, but pro-
duced itself of a sudden as by some quick impulse of
ridicule.

" No," she said, " Jean, that is just the thing, nothing
has happened ; " and then the rueful look melted away,
and a gleam of real fun came back.

" Dear me ! dear me ! something has gone wrong. You
never got to the drawing-room at all ? -L

" Oh, yes," cried the girl, " and all went off very well,
didn't you hear Margaret say ? " .

" Well, then, my dear, I don't understand," Jean said,
puzzled.

" It is just that that was all," said Lilias, with her laugh.
" It all went off very well. Everything was quite right, I
suppose. Me that thought it was the great, beautiful
Court itself, and that we would see everybody, and that
it would be known who you were, and everything ! I
said to Margaret, ' Is that all ? '• And I think she was
quite as astonished as me, for she said, ' I suppose so.*
And then we waited, and at last we got the carriage, and
we came away 1 Now that I think of it, it was awfully
funny," said Lilias, with tears, which were no doubt tears

I92 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

of merriment, but which were also tears of vexation, in
her eyes. " To think we should have thought of it for
months and months, and got such dresses, and played such
pranks with Madame Ballerina — all for that ! "

" As for expecting," continued Margaret, " that it would
be an occasion for rational intercourse, or anything like
making acquaintance either with the Court or Her Majesty,
I could have told you from the beginning that was nonsense.
Just think of such crowds of women, one at the back of
another, like birds in a net. It would be out of the question
to think of it. Now, Lilias, go and get your things off,
and, if you are tired, you can lie down a little "

" Yes, my dear, you must just lie down a little — it will do
you good."

" Jean and Margaret," cried Lilias, jumping up, *' do
you think I am old, like you ? What am I to lie down
for ? — and besides, you never lie down, that are old.
It is only me you say that to. I will go and take my things
off, and then I will take Susan and go out, and look in at
all the vulgar shops, and see the common folk, for I think
I like them best."

" I am afraid, Margaret, the poor child is disappointed,"
said Jean, when Lilias had gone away.

" It will be because you have been putting things into
her head, then," said Margaret ; " everything went off
just as well as possible."

Lilias came down after awhile in her ordinary dress,
and with a countenance divided between mirth and melan-
choly.

" I thought I should feel a different person," she said,
" but I am just the same. I thought the world was going
to be changed, but there is no difference. All the same,
I am a woman. I never can be sent back to the school-
room, and made to refuse parties, and stay at home, and
give up all the fun, now,"

" All the fun is a vulgar expression," said Margaret.
"It is just to take you to parties and give you pleasure
that we have come here."

" Ah, but there is more than that. I am not going to
be taken, but to go. I am grown-up now. It is curious,11
said Lilias, with a reflective air, " how you understand things
just by doing them. I was thinking of something else ;

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 193

I was not thinking of this ; and, of course, it turns out to
be the most important. All this time I have been your
child, yours and Jean's — now I am just me.1'

" So long as you do not carry it too far, my dear."

" I will carry it just as far as I can go," cried Lilias, with
a laugh. She rejected the tea, out of which Margaret
was getting much comfort, and ran upstairs again, where
they could hear her at the piano, playing over everything
she knew, which was not very much. The sound and
measure were a little ease to her excitement. By-and-by
Miss Jean was allowed by Margaret to get free, and, going
upstairs, found Lilias standing with her forehead pressed
against the window, looking out. There was not very much
to see — the upper windows opposite across the light green
foliage, a few carriages passing under the windows. When
she heard some one coming into the room behind her, th'e
girl broke forth suddenly.

" What are we here for in this strange place ? I don't
want to go to parties ; they will just be like seeing the
Queen. What has that to do with us ? We may fancy
we are great people, but we are only little small people,
and nobody ever heard of us before." "

" Lilias, my love," said Jean, with her arms round her
little sister, " you must not say that."

" Why shouldn't I say it when it is true ? To see all
these grand ladies, and none of them knew us. Oh yes,
Margaret had known them — two or three — but they had
forgotten her and she only remembered them when she
heard their names. But when we are at home everybody
knows us. What is the use of pretending that we are
great people like these ? When we are at home we are
great enough — as great as I want to be."

" Your nerves are just a little upset, my darling, and
you are disappointed (and little wonder)."

" I am not disappointed — that is, I can see it was foolish
all through ; and I have no nerves ; but I have made a
fool of myself, and I could kill myself," cried Lilias ; " and
everybody ' '

" Whisht ! whisht ! my bonnie dear. Put on your
hat, and we will go out. Margaret is resting, and I have
got some little things to do."

After a while this simple project delivered Lilias out of

194 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

her trouble ; to walk about in the air and sunshine, to see the
other people, so many of them, going about their business,
to watch the movement of the living world, even to go
into the shops and buy " little things " here and there, a
bit of ribbon in one, some gloves in another, a pretty bit
of china Miss Jean had set her heart on, was enough to
restore her to her usual light-heartedness. Nothing very-
tragical had happened, after all.

CHAPTER XXXII

IT was after this that the experiences in society began.
The countess gave them a dinner, which was very kind
and friendly, and at which they met various country
friends.

Miss Margaret was very stately in this party. She saw
through it, and was indignant with Jean and Lilias for
enjoying themselves. Two or three engagements sprang out
of it, very pleasant, but somewhat humiliating to the head
of the family, who had come to London in order to be
beyond the country, and give Lilias experience of the great
world. There w-ere two or three little dinners, one in an
hotel, and the others in other lodgings of similar character
to those in Cadogan Place, and many proposals that they
should go to the play together, and to the Royal Academy
to see the pictures, proposals which it was all Margaret
could do to prevent the others from accepting. She gave
a couple of little parties herself to the rural notables,
But all these did not count, they only kept her out of
society, in the true sense of the word. Margaret was as
proud a woman as ever bore a Scottish name, which is
saying much ; but it seemed to her that she would almost
have stooped to a meanness to get an entry into the upper
world which she felt to be circling just out of her reach,
and from which now and then she heard echoes dropping
into the lower spheres. It was not for herself she desired
that entry. She was unhappy because she was not
acquainted with ladies in the fashionable world, and men
who went everywhere. When Jean and Lilias, seated

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 195

upon chairs by her side looking on at the passing crowds of
Vanity Fair in Rotten Row with all the delight of people
from the country, saw and hailed and exchanged joyous

freetings with other people from the country passing by,
largaret's soul was filled with irritation and annoyance.
These were not the acquaintances she desired. It vexed her
to be exposed to their cordiality, their pleasure at sight
of anybody they knew.

The countess's dinner had been a disappointment —
almost, in the excited state of Margaret's feelings, had
seemed an insult ; but there was the greater gathering in
prospect, the reception, at which all society was expected
to be present, and to which she looked forward with a half-
hope that this might realize some of her expectations, yet
a half-certainty of further disappointment and offence.
Lilias had got a new dress for the occasion, to her own
surprise and almost dissatisfaction, for she was somewhat
alarmed by Margaret's bounties ; and Jean, though not
without a little tremor lest the countess should recollect
that she had worn it at Mrs. Stormont's ball, and indeed
on several other occasions, put on her grey satin. Margaret
was in" black silk, very imposing and stately, with her
beautiful lace. The three sisters were a fine sight as their
hostess came forward to greet them at the door of the
beautiful rooms, one within another, which, what with
mirrors and a profusion of lights, seemed to prolong them-
selves into indefinite distance. The rooms were not very
full as yet, for the ladies had come somewhat early, and
the countess was veiy gracious to them. She admired
Lilias, and kissed her on the cheek, and told Jean, who
beamed, and Margaret, who was not quite sure that she
was not offended, that their little sister was a credit to
the North.

"If you keep in this room, you will hear who the people
are as they come in," she said, with an easy assumption
of the fact that they knew nobody.

They took their places accordingly at a little distance,
the two elder ladies seating themselves until they were
almost buried by the crowds that streamed in and stood
all about them in lively groups, standing over them, talking
across their shoulders as if they were objects in still life,
till Miss Margaret rose indignantly and formed a little

I96 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

TOUD of her own with Jean, who was a little bewildered,
and Lilias, who eyed the talkers round her, half frightened,
half wistful, with a great longing to have some one to talk
with too.

" We may as well go into the next room," said Margaret ;
" there will perhaps be some more rational conversation
going on there ; " for it is impossible to describe how
impatient she was growing of the duchess's concert, and dear
Lady Grandmaison's Saturdays, and all the other places
in which these fine people met each other daily or nightly.
" To hear who they are," said Margaret, " might be worth
our while, if they were persons that had ever been heard
of ; but when it is just Lady Tradgett, and Sir Gilbert
Fairoaks, and the Misses This or That, it is not overmuch
to edification."

" And you cannot easily fit the folk to their names,"
said Miss Jean.

" They are just as little attractive as their names are,"
said Miss Margaret ; " and what does it matter, when it
is a name that no mortal has ever heard tell of, whether
it has Lady to it or Sir to it ? — or Duke even, for that
matter ; but dukes are mostly historical titles, which is
always something."

" But it is a beautiful sight," said Miss Jean, " though
it would be more pleasant if we knew more people."

" I cannot think," said Margaret, with a little bitterness,
" that we would be much made-up with the acquaintance
of the people here. So far as I can judge, it is just the
rabble of society that comes to these big gatherings. It
is just a sight, like going to the play."

''There is Lady Ida," said Lilias. "I hope she will
come and speak to us. But I would rather go to the
play, if it is only a sight."

" Oh, my dear, it is just beautiful," said Miss Jean.
" Look at the flowers. The cost of them must have been a
fortune — and all those grand mirrors reflecting them
till you think every rose is double. And the diamonds,
Lilias ! There is an old lady there that is just like a lamp
of light ! and many beautiful persons too, which is still
finer," Miss Jean added, casting a tender glance upon
the little figure by her side, which she thought the most
beautiful of all.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 197

" Oh, Miss Murray, I am so glad to see you," said Lady
Ida. " We were afraid you must have been caught by some
other engagement ; for no one minds throwing over an
evening invitation. Yes, there are a great many people.
My aunt knows everybody, I think. It- is a bore keeping
up such a large acquaintance, but people always come,
for they are sure of meeting everybody they know."

" But that is not our case, for we are strangers "

began Miss Jean, thinking to mend matters.

Her sister silenced her by a look, with made that well-
intentioned woman tremble.

" Being so seldom in town," she said, " it is not my wish
to keep up an indiscriminate acquaintance. In the country
you must know everybody, but in a place like London
you can pick and choose."

This sentence was too long for Lady Ida, whose atten-
tion wandered.

" How do you do ? " she said, nodding and smiling
over Lilias' shoulder. " Ah, yes, to be sure, that is quite
true. I. suppose you are going to take Lilias to the ball
everybody is talking of — oh, the ball, the Greek ambassa-
dor's ? "

" Dear me, you have never heard of it, Margaret ! "
Miss Jean said.

" Oh, you must go ! Lilias, you must insist upon going,"
Lady Ida cried, her eyes going beyond them to some new
comers who hurried' forward with effusive greetings.
" You have got your tickets ? " were the first words she
addressed to them.

" Oh, so many thanks," said the new people. " We
got them this morning. And I hear everybody is going.
How kind of you to take so much trouble for us."

Miss Margaret, somewhat grimly, had moved away.
Envy, and desire, and profound mortification were in her
soul.

" If you cannot speak to the purpose, you might at least
hold your tongue," she said to Jean, with unwonted
bitterness.

Lilias followed them forlorn. She was dazzling in her
young bloom. She was prettily dressed. Her sweet,
wistful looks, a little scared and wondering, afraid of the
crowd, which laughed and talked, and babbled about

7t

198 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

its pleasures, and took no notice of her, were enough to
have touched any tender heart. And no doubt there
were a number of sympathetic people about to whom
Margaret and Jean would have been much more interesting
than the majority of the chatterers, and who would have
admired and flattered Lilias with the utmost delight. But
there was nobody to bring them together. Lady Ida, in
the midst of a crowd of her friends, was discussing in high
excitement this great event in the fashionable world/ The
other people were meeting each other daily in one place or
another. Our poor country friends, after the brave front
they had put upon it at first, and their pretence of enjoying
the beautiful sight — the flowers, the lights, the diamonds,
the pretty people- — -began to feel it all insupportable.
After a while, by tacit consent, they moved back towards
the door.

" But the carnage will not be here for an hour yet,
Margaret," Jean said.

" Then we will wait for it in the hall," said Margaret,
sternly.

" Are you really going away so soon ? " cried the
countess, shaking hands with them. " I know ! you are
going to Lady Broadway's, you naughty people. But
of course you want to make the best of your time, and show
Lilias everything."

It was on Jean's lips to say, in her innocence, Oh, no,
they knew nothing about Lady Broadway : but fortunately
she restrained herself. They drove home very silently,
no one feeling disposed to speak, and when they reached
the stillness of Cadogan Place, where they were not expected
for an hour or two, and where no lamp was lighted, but
only a pair of glimmering candles upon the mantel-piece,
Miss Margaret closed the door, sending old Simon per-
emptorily away, and made a little address to her sisters.

" It appears," she says, " that I have been mistaken,
Lilias. I thought the name of Murray of Murkley was well
enough known to have opened all the best houses to us
wherever we went, and I thought we had old friends
enough to make society pleasant ; but you perceive that
I have been mistaken. I would have concealed it from
myself, if I could, and I would have done anything to
conceal it from you. But that is not possible after to-night.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 199

My heart is just broken to have raised your hopes, and
then to disappoint them like this. But you see everything
is changed. Our old friends are dead, or out of the way,
and it's clear to me that those fashionable people, that
are just living in a racket night and day, have no thought
for any mortal but just themselves and their own kind. So
there is nothing for it but to confess to you, Lilias, that
I have just made a mistake, and proved how ignorant I
am of the world."

" Oh ! Margaret, not that — it is just the world that is
unworthy of you," cried Jean, whom her sister put down
with an impatient wave of her hand.

And now it was that Lilias showed her sense, as was often
remarked afterwards. She gave her little skip in the air,
and said, with a laugh.

" What am I caring, Margaret ? Ida was never very
nice. She might have introduced the people to us. If
it had been a dance, it would have been dreadful to stand
and see the rest enjoying themselves ; but when it was
nothing but talk, talk, what do I care ? "

"It was a beautiful sight," said Jean, taking courage.
" I am very glad to have seen it, though I had never spoken
to any person. And we were not so bad as that. There
was the countess and Lady Ida, and that old gentleman
who trod upon my train, and that was very civil,
besides "

" Besides that we did not want them a bit, for there
are three of us, and what do we care ? " cried Lilias,
throwing her arms round Margaret, who had dropped,
overcome by disappointment and fatigue, into a chair.

Thus there was a little scene of mutual tenderness and
drawing together after the trial of the evening, and Mar-
garet retired to her room with a relieved heart, though
she had felt an hour or two before as if, after having made
her confession, she must drop the helm of the family for
ever and slip into a secondary place. No one, however,
seemed to see it in this light.

200 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER XXXIII

NEXT morning some further incidents occurred which
disturbed Margaret, just recovering from the discomfiture
of the preceding night, and plunged her into fresh anxiety.

" Oh ! Lilias," said Jean, " just look — it is certainly him ;
though I never would have thought of seeing him here."

" Whom do you mean by him ? " said Margaret. " And
for goodness sake, Jean, where everybody is hearing you,
do not exclaim like that. You will just be taken for an
ignorant person that knows nobody."

" And I'm sure they would not be far wrong that thought
so," said Jean. " Yes, I \vas sure it was him : and glad.
glad he will be to see us, for he seems not to have a creature
to speak to. Dear me, Philip," she said, rising and
stretching out her hand through a startled group who
separated to let the friends approach each other, " who
would have thought of seeing you here ! "

Philip Stormont's face lighted up.

" I was looking for you," he said, in his laconic way.
He had been strolling along with a vague stare, looking
doubly rustic and home-spun and out of place ; he had
the very same cane in his hand with the knob that he used
to suck at Murkley. "' I knew you were here, and I was
looking for you," he said.

" And have you just arrived, and straight from Tayside ?
and how is your good mother and all our friends ? "

" My mother is away : and I've been away for the
last three months," said Philip ; "I've been out in the
Mediterranean. There was little doing at home, and
she was keen for me to go."

" And now I suppose you have come to London to go
into all the gaieties here ? " said Margaret, for the first
time taking her part in the conversation. She looked
somewhat grimly at the long-leggit lad. He was brown
from his sea-voyaging, and too roughly clad for these
fashionable precincts. " This is just the height of the
season, and you'll no doubt intend to turn yourself into
a butterfly, like the rest of the young men."-

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 201

" I am not very like a butterfly now," said Philip,
suddenly awakened to the imperfections of his dress.

" Oh ! but that is soon mended," said Miss Jean, always
kind ; " you will have to go to your tailor, and you will
soon be as fine as anybody."

Philip grew fiery red with sudden shame and dismay.
He cast a glance at Lilias, and read the same truth in
her eyes. Except Jean, who had first found him out,
nobody was very glad to see him in his sea-going tweeds.
It had not struck him before. He muttered something
about making himself decent, and left them hurriedly,
striding along out of sight under the trees. Miss Mar-
garet smiled as he disappeared.

" Well," she said, drawing a long breath, " that is a
good riddance ; and I wish the rest of our country friends
were got rid of as easy. I think you might remember,
Jean, that to entertain "the like of Philip Stormoht is not
what we came to London for."

Jean was magnanimous. She had it on her lips to say
something of the failure so far of their expedition to London,
but it died away before it was spoken. Margaret made the
signal to her party to rise from their chairs after this little
incident. She had a suspicion that the people about were
smiling at the encounter with the rustic. But indeed
the people about were concerned with themselves, and
paying little attention to the ladies from the country.
Everybody knew them to be ladies from the country, which
of itself was an irritating circumstance enough.

They got up accordingly with great docility and joined
the stream of people moving up and down. And now it
was that another encounter, more alarming and unexpected
still, brought her heart to Margaret's mouth, and moved
both the others in different ways with sudden excitement.
As they moved along with the tide on one hand, the other
stream" coming the other way, an indiscriminate .mass, in
which there were so few faces that had any interest for
them, suddenly, without warning, wavered, opened, and
disclosed a well-known countenance, all lighted up with
animation and eagerness. There was no imperfection of
appearance in the case of this young man. He was walking
with two or three others, and there was in his eyes nothing
of that forlorn gaze in search of acquaintances which

202 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

distinguished the rural visitor. He had been, perhaps, too
dainty for Murkley, but he was in his element here. He
came up to the three ladies, taking off his hat with that
unusual demonstration of respect which had amused
them amid the less elaborate salutations of the country.
His appearance froze the blood in Margaret's veins. She
felt that no compromise was possible, that her action must
be stern and decisive. She turned and gave Lilias a
peremptory look, then made Lewis such a curtsey as filled
all the spectators with awe. She even dropped her hand
by her side and caught hold of the draperies of Lilias
to ensure that the girl followed her. Lilias had almost
given her little skip in the air for pure pleasure at the sight
of him, when she received that look and secret tug,- more
imperative still. She put out her hand as she was swept
past with an " Oh, Mr. Murray ! " which was half a protest :
but she was 'too much astonished to resist Margaret. Jean,
left behind, in her surprise and delight, greeted the stranger
with a tremulous cry.

" Oh, but I am glad to see you ! " she said.

But, when she saw that Margaret had swept on, she made
an agitated pause. Lewis took her hand almost with
gentle violence.

" You must speak to her — you have always been my
friend," he said.

" Oh, yes, Mr. Murray, I am your friend," said Miss Jean,
following with her eyes the two figures that were disappear-
ing in the crowd ; " but what am I to do if I lose Mar-
garet ? "

Her perplexity and distress would have amused a less
tender observer.

" We will go after them," he said, " and, if we miss
them, cannot I see you home ? "

" But that would be taking you from your friends,"
said Miss Jean, with wondering eyes and much-divided
wishes. As, however, even in this moment, she was al-
ready separated from Margaret, there was nothing to be
done but accept his companionship.

Jean was in a ferment of excitement and anxiety. It
was what she had wished and hoped for — it was delightful —
it filled her with an exhilarating sense of help and satis-
faction ; but, at the same time, if it should turn out to be

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 203

going against Margaret ! How difficult it is in such a
terrible, unlooked-for crisis to know exactly what to do !
She did what her heart desired, which is the most general
solution.

" They will probably turn at the end, and then I can go
back to them," she said. " And why should Margaret
object ? for you have always been my friend."

" Yes," said Lewis, " you will recollect it was you I
knew first in the family : and I was always supposed to be
your visitor. What pleasant hours those were at the
piano ! Ah, you could not be so cruel as to pass me,
to treat me like a stranger. We are in each other's confi-
dence," he said, looking so kindly, tenderly at her, with
a meaning in his eyes which Miss Jean understood, and
which delivered her at once out of her little flutter of
timidity. She answered him with a look, and became her-
self once more.

" It is so indeed," she said. " We have both opened our
hearts to one another, though I might be your mother.
And glad, glad I am to see you. I feel a little lost among
all these people, though it is very interesting to watch them :
but I am just most happy when I come upon a kent face.
And have you been long in London, and have you friends
here ? Without that there is but little pleasure in it," Miss
Jean said, with a suppressed sigh.

Then Lewis began to tell her that he had been in town
for a week or two, and had gone everywhere looking for
her and her sisters ; that he had found abundance of
friends, people whom he had met abroad, who had known
him " in my god-father's time,"- he said.

" I think I know almost all the diplomatic people, and
they are a host ; and it is wonderful to find how many
people one has come across, for everybody goes abroad."

Jean listened with admiration and a sigh.

There are few," she said, " of these kind of persons
that come in our way, either at Murkley or Gowanbrae."

Something in her tone attracted his attention, especially
to the sentiment of this remark, and Lewis was too sym-
pathetic to be long unacquainted with its meaning.

" No doubt," he said, "it is a long time since you have
been here : and you find your old friends gone, and
strangers in their place."

204 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" That is just it," said Miss Jean. " It has been per-
haps a little disappointment — oh, not to Lilias and me,
who are delighted to see everything, and never think of
parties and things — but Margaret will vex herself about
it, wanting the child to enjoy herself, and to see all that's
worth seeing. You will understand the feeling. There
is some great ball now," she added, with vague hopes for
which she could not account to herself, " which everybody
is speaking of —

" It is perhaps the Greek ball ? Is she going ? " cried
Lewis, eagerly/ " Ah, that will be what you call luck —
great luck for me."

" I cannot say that she is going — if you mean Mar-
garet," said Miss Jean, trembling to feel success within
reach. "It is not a thing, you know, that tempts the
like of us at our age — but just for Lilias. Weil, I cannot
say. I hear people are asking for invitations, which, to
my mind, is a wonderful way of going about it. I do not
think Margaret, who is a proud person, would ever bring
her mind to that."

" She shall not need," said Lewis. " Would she go ?
Would you go ? Dear Miss Jean, will not you do this
for me ? They are my dear friends, those people. They
know me since" I was a boy. They will call at once, and
send the invitation. If I were not out of favour with your
sister, I would come with my friends. But not a word !
Do not say a word ! It will all pass as if we had nothing
to do with it, you and I. That is best ; but in return you
will see that Miss Lilias saves for me a dance, two dances
perhaps."

" Poor thing ! " said Miss Jean, " my fear just is that
she Will have all her dances to spare ; for we do not know
many people, and the people we know are not going — and
it is perhaps just a little unfortunate for Lilias."

" That will not happen again," cried Lewis, with a glow
of pleasure. " I am not of any good in Murkley, but I can
be of some use here.u

In the mean time Lilias, very much disappointed, was
demanding an explanation from her sister.

" It was Mr. Musray, Margaret ! I would have liked
to speak to him. He was always nice. And you liked
him well enough at Murkley. He was dressed all right, not

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 205

like poor Philip. Why might not I stop and speak to him ?
I had to give him my left hand, for you pulled me away."

" There was no need for giving him any hand at all.
He is just a person we know nothing about — what his
family is, if he belongs to anybody," Miss Margaret said.

" But we know him," said Lilias, with that perfectly
inconclusive argument which sounds so powerful to the
foolish speaker, but which in reality means nothing.

Margaret was full of irritation and annoyance, and a
sense of danger to come.

" What does that matter ? " she cried. " Him 1 We
know no harm of him, if that is what you mean. But his
belongings are unknown to me, and with a man of his
name, that cannot be but harm. If it was one of your
English names, it might just be any ignoramus : but there
is no good Murray that has not a drop's blood, as people
say, between him and Murkley. I will have no traffic with
that young man."

" But he came to us at home ! " said Lilias, in great
surprise, " and I saw him — often."

" Where did you see him, you silly thing ? Twice, thrice
at the utmost ! "

" Oh, Margaret ! I used to see him with Katie. Katie
was always about the park, you know ; and he was so fond
of the new castle, and always making sketches "

Margaret looked at her with severe eyes. And* indeed
Lilias, who had revealed perhaps more than was expedient,
coloured, and was embarrassed by her observation, though
she indignantly declared to herself that there was " no
cause. "

" So you saw him — often ? " the elcfer sister said. " This
is news to me — and the more reason we should see nothing
of him now ; for a young man that will thrust himself upon
a girl's company when she is out of the protection of her
friends "

" Margaret ! " cried Lilias, with a flash of indignation.
" Are you going to leave Jean behind ? " she added, hastily
in a voice of horror, as Margaret, instead of turning back
at the end of the walk, hurriedly directed her steps home-
ward, crossing with haste and trepidation the much
crowded road.

" Jean must just take the risk upon herself. It Is no

2o6 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

doing of mine. She will tell him no doubt where we are
living, and the likelihood is he will see her home. But
mind you"- said Margaret, turning round upon the girl
with that little pause in her walk to emphasize her words,
which is habitual with all eloquent persons, " I will not
have that young lad coming about us here. There must
be no seeing — often, here — no, nor seldom either. I am
your guardian, and I will not be made light of. He is not a
person that I consider good enough for your acquaintance
and I will not have it. So you must just choose between
him and me."

" Margaret ! " cried Lilias again, in consternation.
Her mind had been agreeably moved by the sight of
Lewis. He was more than a kent face, he was a friend :
and indeed he was more than a friend. Whatever might
be her feelings towards him, on which she had not at all
decided, Lilias had a very distinct idea of what his feelings
were towards her, and, let theorists say what they will,
there is nothing more interesting to a girl than the con-
sciousness that she is — thought of, dreamed of, admired,
present to the mind of another, even if she does not permit
herself to say beloved. The sight of him had brought
back all those vague pleasures and embarrassments, those
shynesses, yet suddenly confidential outbursts, which had
beguiled the afternoon hours at Murkley. What did
Margaret mean ? Lilias felt herself insulted by the sus-
picion expressed, which she was too proud to protest against.
Her indignant exclamation, " Margaret ! " was all that
she would condescend to. And they walked homeward
through the streets, .which Margaret, in despite and alarm,
had hastily chosen instead of returning by the park, without
saying a word to each other. It was the first time that
this had happened in Lilias' life. Her heart grew fuller and
fuller as she went home. Was Margaret, the ruler, the
universal guide, she who up to this time had been infallible,
was she prejudiced, was she unkind ? When they reached
the house, they separated, neither saying a word. But
this was intolerable to Lilias, who by-and-by ran down
to Margaret's room, and flung herself into her sister's arms.
" I cannot bear it ! I cannot bear it ! Scold me, if you
like, but speak to me, Margaret," cried the little girl.

It was a very small matter, yet it was a great matter to

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 207

them. Margaret took the girl in her arms with a trembling
in her own strong and resolute figure.

" You are the apple of my eye, you are the light of my
eyes,1' she said, which was all the explanation that passed
between them. For Lilias was awed by the solemnity of
her sister's rarely- expressed love. It thrilled her with a
wonderful sense of something too great for her own little-
ness, an undeserved adoration that made her humble. It
did not occur to her that great tyrannies are sometimes the
putspring of such a passion. On the contrary, she felt that
in the presence of this, her little liking for a cheerful face
was as nothing, too trifling a matter to be thought of ;
and yet there was in her mind a little hankering after that
pleasant countenance all the same.

It was some time later before Jean returned, and there
was in her a wonderful flutter of embarrassment and
delight, and of fictitious composure, and desire to look as
if nothing had happened, which filled Lilias with curiosity
and Margaret with an angry contempt for her sister, as for
an old fool, who was allowing her head to be turned by the
attentions of that young man.

Jean, looked at her with a glance in which there was
disappointment, impatience, wistfulness, and something
else which Lilias could not divine. There was more in it
than mere regret for this ignoring of Lewis' excellencies.
There was — could it be possible ? — a kind of compassion
for the other side. But this was so very unlikely a senti-
ment to be entertained by Jean for Margaret that Lilias,
secretly observing, secretly ranging herself on Jean's side,
felt that she must be mistaken. But Jean was not herself.
Something was on her lips to say, which she had driven
back almost by force. A concealed triumph was bursting
forth by every outlet. When she sat down to her work,
secret smiles would come upon her face. A quiver was in
her hands which made her apparent industry quite in-
effectual. She would start and look at Lilias when any
sound was heard without. Once when Margaret left the
room for a moment, Jean made a rush at her little sister
and kissed her with an agitation to which Lilias had no
clue.

" Just you wait a little ; it will co:i.e perhaps tms
afternoon," cried Miss Jean in her ear.

208 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" Do you expect Mr. Murray, Jean ? Oh ! Margaret
will not be pleased," Li lias cried, in alarm.

Jean shook her head violently and retreated to the
window, where, when Margaret returned to the room, she
was standing looking out.

" Dear' me ! can you not settle to something ? " said
Margaret " I have no nerves to speak of, but to see
you whisking about like this is more than I can put up
with. The meeting this morning has been too much for
you."

" Oh, how little you knoxv," cried Jean, under her breath
— and this time there was no mistaking the compassion,
the reproachful pity in her eyes ; but then she added —
" Perhaps I am a little agitated, but it is to think you
should be so prejudiced — you that have always had more
insight than other folk."

"If I ha've had the name of more insight, can-
not you believe that I'm right this time ? " said
Margaret.

Jean, standing at the window looking out, did nothing
but shake her head. She was entirely unconvinced.
When, however, Margaret announced some time after
that she had ordered the victoria, and was going out to
make some calls with Lilias, this intimation had a great
effect upon Jean. She turned round with a startled look
to interpose.

" Dear me, you are not going out again, Margaret ! and
me so sure you would be at home. You will just tire
yourself, and Lilias too : and if you remember that we are
going to the play to-night. There are no calls surely that
are so urgent as that."

" Bless me ! " said Margaret, taken by surprise, " what
is all this earnestness for ? You are perhaps expecting a
visit from your friend ; but in that case it is far better that
Lilias and me should be out of the way."

" I am expecting no visit from him.' I had to tell him,
poor lad, that it would be best not to come ; but I wish
you would stay in, Margaret : I think it is going to rain,
and you have just an open carriage, no shelter. And you
can never tell who may call. You said yourself that when
you went out in the afternoon you missed just the people
most wanted to see."

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 209

" I am expecting nobody to-day," said Margaret ; " and
if anybody comes, there is you to see them."

" Me ! " cried Jean, with a nervous tremor. " And
what could I say to them ? What if it should be strangers ? "

" I hope you have a good Scots tongue in your head,"
said Miss Margaret, somewhat warmly perhaps. ButLilias
lingered to console the poor lady, whose look of alarm
and trouble was greater than any mere possibility could
have produced.

" Oh ! my darling, try to persuade her to stay at home ;
but mind you do not say a word," cried Jean in the ear
of Lilias, holding her two arms. " I think there may
perhaps be — some grand people coming. And how could
I speak to them ? "

" What grand people ? " the girl cried.

" Oh, hold your tongue — hold your tongue, Lilias ! I
would not have her suspect' — but who can tell what kind
of people may be coming ? Something always happens
when people are out ; and then this ball— - — "

"Margaret," cried Lilias, "don't go outv this afternoon.
Jean thinks that people may be calling — somebody who
could get us tickets "

" Oh ! not me, not me," cried Jean, putting her hand on
the girl's mouth. " I never said such a thing. It v/as just
an imagination — or a presentiment "

" Well," said Margaret, with her bonnet on, " Jean is
just as able to receive the finest company as I am. She
is looking very nice, she has a little colour. To be silly
now and then is good for the complexion ; she is fluttered
with the sight of her young friend — is it friend you call
him, Jean ? "

" What could I call him else ? " cried Jean, with dignity.
" I will never call a man more, as you well know ; and
besides, I might be his mother. And why shoukj I call
him less, seeing he has always been so good to me, and one
that I think much of ? But I am not expecting Mr. Murray,
you need not be feared for that. It is just a kind of
presentiment," Miss Jean said.

210 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER XXXIV

" I TOLD them you were in, Miss Jean, but they just paid
no attention to me ; and I do not think you have lost
much, for they were too flyaway, and not of your kind. I
hope there's cards enough : and this big letter, with a seal
as large as Solomon's," said Simon.

She took them with another jump of her heart. The
envelope was too big for the little tray on which he had
placed it ; it was half covered with a great blazon. The
cards were inscribed with a name which it taxed alt Jean's
powers to make out. She was so moved that she made a
confidant of Simon, having no one else to confide in.

" It's an' invitation," she said, " for one of the grandest
balls in all London."

Simon, for his part, looked down upon the magnificent
enclosure without any excitement, with a cynical eye.

" It's big enough to be from the Queen," he said, " and
it will keep ye up to a' the hours of the night, and the poor
horse just hoasting his head off. You'll excuse me, Miss
Jean, but I cannot help saying rather you than me."

" I should have thought, Simon," said Miss Jean,
reproachfully, " that you would have had some feeling
for Miss Lilias."

" Oh ! I have plenty of feeling for Miss Lilias ; but
sitting up till two or three, or maybe four in the morning
is good for nobody," Simon said.

Miss Jean could not keep still. As for work, that was
impossible. She met Margaret at the door, when the little
victoria drove up, with a countenance as pale as ashes.

" God bless me ! " cried Margaret, in alarm, " what has
happened ? "

Jean thrust the cards and the envelope into her hands.

" You will know," she said, breathless, " what they mean
better than me." Miss Jean salved her conscience by
adding to herself, " And so she will ! for she understands
everything better than I do."

" What is it, Margaret ? " said Lilias.

The ladies had been engaged all the afternoon in a

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 211

hopeless effort of which Lilias was entirely unconscious ;
they had gone to call on a number of people in whom the
girl, at least, felt no interest, but to whom Margaret
had condescended with a civility which her little sister
could not understand — The countess, who was too
much occupied to pay them any attention, and Lady Ida,
who thought quite enough had been done for the country
neighbours, and was inclined to show that she was bored ;
and the wife of the county member, who was on the other
side in politics, and consequently received the Miss Murrays
with respect but coldness, and some dowagers, who had
almost forgotten Margaret, and some new people who

were barely acquainted with her Why did she take

all that trouble ?

She came back in very low spirits, feeling that it was im-
possible, feeling impotent, and feeling humiliated not so
much because of her impotence, as for a contempt of her
own aim. Between the two her heart had sunk altogether.
To think it possible that she, Margaret Murray, should be
going from door to door in a strange place, seeking an
invitation to a ball ! Was such ignominy possible ? When
the big envelope was thrust into her hand she looked at it
with alarm, as if it might wound her. And to think, after
all this mortification, disgust, and terror, to tliink of
finding, what at this moment looked like everything she
desired, in her hand ! For the time, forgetting the frivolous
character of the blessing, Margaret was inclined to believe
with a softening and grateful movement of her heart that
it had fallen upon her direct from heaven.

And during the rest of the afternoon no other subject
was thought of. When the ladies assembled over their
tea in delightful relaxation and coolness after the fuss and
flutter of their walks and drives, and those afternoon calls,
which had brought nothing but vexation, the little scene
was worthy of any comedy. The delight of Lilias, which
was entirely natural and easy, had no such impassioned
character about it as the restrained and controlled exulta-
tion which showed in Margaret's quietest words and move-
ments. Jean, who was still pale and trembling with
the dread of detection and the strain of excitement,
by-and-by began to regard, with a wonder for which there
were no words, her sister's perfect unconsciousness and

212 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

absence of suspicion. To associate this envied distinction
with Jean or anything she could have done, or with the
slight person whom she had declined to have anything
to say1 to in the morning, whose overtures she had
negatived so sternly, never entered Margaret's thoughts.
In the happiness and calm that came over her after the
first ecstasy, she indulged, indeed, in a number of specula-
tions. But, after all, what so natural as that the lady
with the wonderful name, which none of them ventured
to pronounce, had heard that the Miss Murrays of Murkley
were in town, and perhaps had them pointed out to her
somewhere, and felt that without Lilias the ball would
be incomplete.

" But, Jean — if you are going to the play, as you are
so fond of, we will have to be earlier than usual — and, in
that case, it is time to dress : though I am so tired, and
have so much to think of, that I would rather stay at
home."

" There will be your ticket lost," said Jean, though in
her heart she was almost glad to have a little time out
of Margaret's presence to realize all that had passed on
this agitating day.

" You can send it to Philip Stormont," said Margaret,
moved to unusual good humour, " and take him with you.
To look for your carriage and all that, he will be more
use than old Simon. No, it is true I have no great opinion
of him. He is just a long-leggit lad. He has little brains,
and less manners, and his family is just small gentry ;
but still he's maybe a little forlorn, and in a strange pla'ce
he will look upon us as more or less belonging to him."

" Oh, Margaret ! " cried Jean, almost with tears in her
eyes, "that is a thing I would never have thought of.
There is nobody like you for a kind heart."

Margaret said " Toot ! " but did not resent the imputa-
tion. " When you find that you are thought upon your-
self, it makes you more inclined to think upon other people.
And I'll not deny that I am pleased. To think you and
me, Jean, should be making all this work about a ball !
I am just ashamed of myself," she said, with a little laugh
of pleasure.

But Jean did not make any response. She sent off old
Simon to the address which Philip even in the few momenta

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS -213

they had seen him had found time to give, and went
upstairs to prepare in the silence of bewilderment, not
able to explain to herself the curious self-deception and
mistake of the sister -to whom she had always looked up.
She had been afraid of being seen through at once : her
tremor, her excitement, her breathless consciousness, all,
Jean had feared would betray her yet : Margaret had
never observed them at all ! She was glad, but she was
also bewildered on her sister's account, and half-humiliated
on her own. For to have been suspected would have been
something. Not to have even been suspected at all, with
so many signs of guilt about her, was so wonderful that it
took away her breath. And, tenderly respectful as her
mind was, she felt a little ashamed, a little to blame that
Margaret had been so easily deceived. Her satisfaction
in her delusion abashed Jean. She saw a grotesque ele-
ment in it, when she knew how completely mistaken it
was. Lilias, who had been questioning her with her eyes
without attracting much attention from Jean, whose
mind was busy elsewhere, followed her upstairs. If
Margaret did not suspect the secret with which she was
running over, Lilias did. She put her arm round the
conspirator from behind, making her start.

" It is you, Jean," she whispered in her ear.

" Oh ! me, Lilias ! How could it be me ? Do I know
these kind of foreign folk ? "

" Then you know who it is, and you are in the secret,"
Lilias said.

Jean threw an alarmed glance towards Margaret's
closed door.

" You are to keep two dances for him," she whispered,
hurriedly ; " but if I had thought what a deception it
would be, Lilias ! It just makes me meeserable."

" I hope you will never have anything worse to be
miserable about," said the girl, with airy carelessness.

" Oh ! whisht, whisht ! " cried Miss Jean, " it would
go to her very heart," and she led the indiscreet com-
mentator on tiptoe past Margaret's door. Lilias sheltered
herself within her own with a beating heart. To keep
two dances for him ! Then it was he who had done it.
It did not occur to Lilias that to call any man he was
dangerous and significant. She had not a doubt as to

214 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

who was meant. Though she had not been allowed to
speak to him, scarcely to look at him, yet he had instantly
exerted himself to do her pleasure. Lihas sat down to
think it over, and forget all about the early dinner and the
play. Her heart beat high as she thought of the contrast.
She had no knowledge of the world, or the way in which
girls and boys comport themselves to each other nowadays,
which is so different from the way of romance. To think
that he should have set to work to procure a gratification
for her, though she had been made to slight him, pleased
her fancy. Why did he do it ? It could not be for friend-
ship, because she was not allowed to show him any. She
did not ask herself anything about her own sentiments,
or, indeed, about his sentiments. She only thought of
him as she had done more or less since the morning in a
sort of happy dream, made up of pleasure in seeing him
again, and 'of a vague sense that herself and the future
were somehow affected by it, and that London was brighter
and far more interesting because he was in it. To think
of walking any morning round the street corner, and
seeing him advancing towards her with that friendly
look ! It had always been such a friendly look, she said
to herself, with a little nutter at her heart. The bell
ringing for dinner startled her suddenly out of these
thoughts, and she had to dress in haste and hurry down-
stairs, where they were all awaiting her, Philip looking
red and sunburnt in his evening clothes. He was never a
person who had very much to say, and he was always over-
awed by Margaret, though she was kind to him beyond all
precedent. He told them about his voyage and the
Mediterranean, and the places he had seen — with diffidence,
drawn out by the elder ladies, who wished to set him at his
ease. But Lilias was pre-occupied, and said little to
him. She felt that she was on no terms of ceremony
with Philip. Philip on his part was by no means so
composed. There was a certain suppressed excitement
about him. He had been chilled to find that Lilias was
not down when he came in, and feared for the moment
that he was to go to the theatre with the elder ladies : but
the appearance of the younger set this right. Lilias
immediately' decided in her own mind that some new
crisis had occurred in the love struggle of which she was

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 215

the confidante, and that it was his anxiety to speak to her
on the subject which agitated Philip. She took the trouble
to contrive that she should sit next to him, letting Jean
pass in before her, and as soon as there was an opportunity,
when Jean's attention was engaged, she took the initiative,
and whispered, " You have something to tell me ? " in
Philip's ear.

He started as if he had been shot ; and looked at her
eagerly, guiltily.

" Yes — there's a good deal to tell you : if you will
listen," he said, with something between an entreaty and
a defiance, as if he scarcely believed .that her benevolence
would go so far.

" Of course I will listen," said Lilias ; and she added,
" I have not heard from her for a long time, Philip.
Wasn't she very wretched about it when you came away ? "

A guilty colour came over Philip's face. He had looked
a sort of orange brown before, but he now became a dusky
crimson.

" I don't know what you mean," he said, " by she,"
and stared at Lilias with something like a challenge.

Lilias, for her part, opened her eyes twice as large as
usual, and gazed upon him.

" You — don't — know ! I think you must be going out
of your senses," she said, briskly, with elder-sisterly
intolerance. " Who should it be but one person ? Do
you think I am someone else than Lilias that you speak
like that to me ! "

"Indeed," said Philip, growing more and more crimson,
" it is just because you are Lilias that I am here."

This speech was so extraordinary that it took Lilias an
entire act to get over its startling effect, which was like
a dash of cold water in her face. By the time the act
was over, she had made out an explanation of it : which
was that the something he had to tell her was something
that only a listener so entirely sympathetic and well-
informed as herself could understand. Accordingly, as
soon as the curtain had fallen, she turned to him again.

" Philip, I am afraid it must be something very serious
that has happened, and you want me to interfere. Per-
haps you have quarrelled with her — but you used to do
that almost every day."

216 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" There is nothing about her at all — whoever you mean
by her," Philip replied, with angry embarrassment, and
a little shrinking from her eyes.

" Nothing about Katie ! Then you have quarrelled ? "
Lilias cried. " I had a kind of instinct that told me ;
and that is why you are looking so glum, poor boy."

If Philip was crimson before, he became purple now.

" I wish," he said, " that you would not try like this
to fix me down to a childish piece of nonsense that nobody
approved. Do you think a man doesn't outgrow such
things ? — do you think he can shut his eyes and not see
that others

Philip had never said so many words straight on end
in all his life, nor, if he had not been tantalized beyond
bearing, would he have said them now. Lilias fixed
her eyes upon him gravely, without a sign of any conscious-
ness that -she was herself concerned. She was very
serious, contemplating him with a sort of scientific observa-
tion ; but it was science touched with grief and dis-
approval, things with which scientific investigation has
nothing to do.

" Do you mean to say that you are inconstant ? " she
said, with solemnity. " I have never met with that before.
Then, Philip," she added, after a pause, " if that is so,
everything is over betwixt you and me."

" What do you mean by saying everything is over ? "
he cried — " everything is going to begin."

She drew a little away from him with an instinctive
movement of delicacy, withdrawing her cloak, which
had touched him. She disapproved of him, as one of a
superior race disapproves of a lower being. She shook
her head quietly, without saying any more. If he were
inconstant, what was there that could be said for him or to
him ? He was outside the pale of Lilias' charity. She
turned round and began to talk to Jean at the other side.
There had been a distinct bond between him and her ;
she had been Katie's friend, their confidante, and she had
been of use to them. There must always be, while this
lasted, a link between Philip and herself ; but all was
over when that was broken. Lilias was absolute in her
horror and disdain of every infidelity ; she was too young
to take circumstances into consideration. Inconstant !

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 217

—it almost made her shudder to sit beside him, as if it
had been a disease — -worse than that, for it was his own
fault. She had read of such things in books, and burned
with indignation in poetry over the faithless lover. But
here it was under her* own eyes. She looked at it severely,
and then she turned away. She heard Philip's voice
going on in explanation, and she made him a little bow
to show that she heard him. She would not be uncivil,
even to a person of whom she so thoroughly disapproved.

CHAPTER XXXV

BUT there is no lasting satisfaction in this world. Mar-
garet had no sooner received the invitation she longed
for, the opportunity of introducing Lilias to a brighter
and gayer circle than any that had been within their
reach, than a sudden chill struck to her heart.

The cause of the sudden coldness which crept over
Margaret, into her very heart like the east-wind, .and
paralyzed her for the moment, was not perhaps a very
solemn one. It was no more than tragi-comic at the best ;
it was the terrible question, suddenly seizing upon her
like a thief in the night, how, now that she had secured
her ball, she was to secure partners for Lilias ? Those
who laugh at such an alarm have never had to encounter
it. What if, after this unexpected good-fortune, almost
elevated in its unexpectedness and greatness into a gift
from Heaven, what if it should only be a repetition of the
other night ? Visions of sitting against the wall all the
night through, looking out wistfully upon an ungenial
crowd, all occupied with themselves, indifferent to
strangars, rose suddenly before her troubled eyes. To
see the young men come in drawing on their gloves,
staring round them at the girls all sitting expectant, of
whom Lilias should be one, and passing her by, was some-
thing which Margaret felt no amount of philosophy, no
strength of mind, could make her able to bear. She grew
cold and then hot at the prospect. It was thus they had
passed an hour or two in the countess's drawing-rooin,

218 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

ignored by the fine company ; but in a ball it would be
more than she should be able to hear.

The overwhelming character of this new care disturbed
all her plans, and, instead of sitting tranqui] enjoying her
solitude and thinking over her preparations, Margaret
hastened to bed on pretence of weariness, but in reality
to escape, if possible, from herself. Pausing first to look
at the cards which had been left in the afternoon, and
which the delight of the invitation had made her neglect,
she found the card of Lewis, and stood pondering over
it for full five minutes. Simon, who had been summoned
to put out the lamps, gave a glance over his mistress's
shoulder, with the confidence of a rural retainer, to see
what it was that occupied her. Margaret put the card
down instantly. She said :

" Simon, I see Mr. Murray, who was at Murkley, has
been here this afternoon."

" Yes, Miss Margaret," said Simon ; "he has been here.
He asked for you all, and he said he was glad to see me,
and that I must be a comfort (which I have little reason
to suppose) ; but maist probably that was just all
blethers to get round me."

" And why should Mr. Murray wish to get round you ? "
said Margaret ; but she did not wait for any reply. " If
he calls again, and Miss Jean happens to be in, you will
be sure to bring him upstairs ; but if she is not in the
house, and me alone, it will perhaps not be advisable to
do that. You must exercise your discretion, Simon."

" No me, mem," said Simon. " I'll exercise no discre-
tion. I hope I know my place better than that. A
servant is here to do what he is bid — and no to think about
his master's concerns ; but if you'll take my advice "

" I will take none of your advice," cried Margaret,
almost angrily.

What contemptible weakness was it that made her
give directions for the problematical admission of the
stranger whom she had made up her mind to shut out
and reject ? Alas for human infirmity ! It was because
it had suddenly gleamed upon her as a possibility that
Lewis might be going to the^ball too"!

When the momentous evening arrived, Lilias herself,
though, with unheard-of extravagance, another new and

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 219

astonishing dress had been added to her wardrobe, did
not quiver with excitement like Margaret. The girl was
just pleasantly excited ; pleased with herself, her appear-
ance, her prospect of pleasure, and if with a little thrill
of keener expectation in the recollection of " two dances "
mysteriously reserved for " him," of whom Jean, even in
moments of confidence, would speak no more clearly — yet
still entirely in possession of herself, with none of the
haze of suspense in her eyes or heart, of anxiety in her
mind, which made her elder sister unlike herself. Mar-
garet was so sorely put to it to preserve her self-control
that she was graver than usual, without a smile about her,
when, painfully conscious that she did not even know her
hostess, she led her little train into the dazzling rooms,
decorated to the last extremity of artistic decoration, of
the Greek Embassy. A dark lady, blazing with diamonds,
made a step forward to meet her : and then our three
strangers, somewhat bewildered, passed on into the fairy-
land, which was half Oriental, half European, as became
the nationality of the hosts. Even the anxiety of Mar-
garet was lulled at first by the wonder of everything
about her. They had come early, as inexperienced people
do, and the assembled company was still a little frag-
mentary. The .country ladies discovered with great relief
that it was the right thing to admire and to express their
admiration, which gave them much emancipation ; for
they had feared it might be vulgar, or old-fashioned, or
betray their inacquaintance with such glories, if they
ventured openly to comment upon them. But, after all,
to find themselves, a group of country ladies knowing
nobody, dropped as from the skies on the skirts of a
magnificent London mob belonging to the best society,
was an appalling experience, when the best was said ;
and they had all begun to feel as they did at the countess's

?arty, before aid and the guardian angel in whom Miss
can trusted, but whom even Lilias knew little about,
who he was — appeared. Dancing began in the large
rooms while this went on, and, with a sensation of despair,
Margaret felt that all her terrors were coming true.

" What are you saying, Jean ? " she asked, somewhat
sharply ; for her sister's voice reached her ear, not tuned
at all in harmony with her own, but with a tone of exulta-

220 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

tion in it. It would be the music that pleased her, or
some dress that she was admiring ! Margaret, in her
vexation and disappointment — though indeed she had
expected to be disappointed — turned round upon her
sister with rage in her soul. Lilias had turned round too,
with perhaps sharper ears, and, before Margaret had
recovered her composure, she found herself addressed in
tones whose blandishments she had rejected, but which
now, against her will, her heart beat to hear. There
was the little strange accent, the inflection not like any
one else's, which had always hitherto moved her to im-
patience— for why should a man pretending to be an
Englishman, and calling himself by a good Scots name,
speak like a foreigner ? All this passed through her mind
like a sudden flash of a lantern, and then she found herself
looking at Lewis with her most forbidding aspect, a frown
under her brow, but the profoundest anxiety in her heart.

" You are not in a good position here," he was saying,
'' and soon there will be a great crowd. May I take you
to a better place ? "

" Oh ! we arc in a very good place for seeing, Mr. Murray,
I am obliged to you. We are not like friends of the house
to take the best places. We are just strangers, and enjoy-
ing," said Margaret, in her sternest tones, " the fine
sight."

" We are all friends of the house who are here," said
Lewis, " and there is no place that would be thought too
good for Miss Murray. You would like to see your
sister when she is dancing : let me take you into the other
room," he said, offering his arm, with a smile which even
Margaret felt to be almost irresistible. She said to herself
that it was French and false, " like all these foreigners,"
but this was a secret protest of the pride which was about
to yield to necessity. She made a little struggle, looking
at him with a cloudy brow. " Your sister — will like to
dance," said Lewis.

And then Margaret threw down her weapons ; but only
after a fashion. She took his arm with proud hesitation
and reluctance.

" You just vanquish me," she said, " with that word ;
but I am not sure it is quite generous. And, if I take
advantage of your present offer, you will remember it is

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 221

in pure selfishness, and alters nothing of what has passed
between us. You will make nothing by it," she sai 1.

He had the audacity to press her hand a little closer
to his side with something like a caress, and he laughed.

" In pure selfishness," he said. " I accept the bargain.
Nothing is altered, only a truce for reasons of state. But
I must be free to act according to the same rule of pure
selfishness too."

Margaret gave him another keen look. She was not
sure that he was clever enough to mean what he was
saying ; but she did not commit herself by any further
explanation. She said, " We will just stay where we can
see what is going on, Mr. Murray. Lilias, who is a stranger
here, does not expect to dance."

Lewis smiled. He led the ladies to a sofa, where there
was room for Margaret, and introduced her to a lady in
diamonds, who called him Lewis.

" Take care of Miss Murray," he said, " duchess ; "
and, leaving Margaret, approached Lilias, who stood
demure behind her. Duchess ! Margaret's head seemed
to spin round. She sank down by the side of this new
and magnificent acquaintance, who smiled graciously,
and made room for her. It was like a transformation
scene.

" He is your relation, I suppose," said the great lady,
with benign looks.

" I cannot say that," Margaret answered, with a gasp
of astonishment and dismay. "I do not even know

what Hurrays "

" Ah ! in Scotland one knows you are all related."
Margaret's horror at this statement may be more easily
imagined than described, as the newspapers say ; but
there was.no pause to give an opportunity for the indig-
nant explanation that rose to her lips. " But I forgot,"
the duchess said, " there is quite a romantic story.
Anyhow, he is a dear boy. There is no family that might
not be proud to claim him. And that pretty creature
who is dancing with Lewis. She is your — niece ? "

" My sister," said Margaret. " It is a long story. My

father, General Murray of Murkley, married twice "

" Ah ! I knew you were related somehow. And that
is your sister ? You must feel quite like a mother to her.

222 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

She is a most perfect little Scotch beauty — that lovely hair
and that sweet complexion."

" And as good as she is bonnie," cried Miss Jean, who
was standing beaming at the end of the sofa. The unknown
duchess lifted her eyes with some surprise, and made her
a small bow.

" I can very well believe it. I have a grandchild nearly
that age, and she seems to me an angel. I could wish
that she should never grow any older."

" Oh, no, madam," said Jean, whose heart responded
to the eyes of the other, as Margaret, proud, suspicious,
and dominant, could not permit herself to do. It seemed
to Jean in her simplicity that some word of respect ought
to be added when she spoke to a duchess. " They are
more sweet than words can say," said the simple woman,
" but we must not for any pleasure of ours keep them from
living their life."

" Will not you sit down ? " said the duchess ; " it is
very hard standing all the evening through, when you are
not accustomed to it. You interest me very much. I
am sure you have thought a great deal on the subject."

" My sister Jean," said Margaret, " has instincts that
come to her like other people's thoughts. She is not very
wise, perhaps. But, if you will allow me, Scotland is
just the country where such ideas should not be en-
couraged, for our names being names of clans, are just
spread among all classes, and "

The duchess was much experienced in society, and
never permitted herself to be bored, which is one of the
first rules for a great lady. She suffered just that faintest
shadow of indifference to steal over her face, which warns
the initiated, and said, sweetly :

" I have heard of that — it must be embarrassing. I am
going to have a little dance on the 17 th — may I hope
that you will bring your young sister to it ? It is a great
pleasure to see anything so fresh and fair : and Lewis
may always command me for his friends," this gracious
lady said. And then she turned and talked to Jean,
and ended by arranging to convey her to a very recondite
performance of classical music a few days after. She left
her seat on the sofa by-and-by, seeing, as she said, some
friends arrive whom she must talk to. But this was not

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 223

the only incident of the kind which made the evening
remarkable. In the course of these exciting hours Mar-
garet and Jean made the acquaintance of several other
distinguished personages who were giving entertainments,
and who hoped they would bring their young sister. They
did not like to venture far from the spot where all this
had occurred, but they abandoned the sofa, with their
sensitive fear of being supposed to take too much upon
them, and stood for the most of the night, confused with
all that passed, watching Lilias through every dance,
following her with their eyes when she disappeared in the
crowd. Jean was perfectly, ecstatically happy ; though
her unaccustomed limbs were trembling under her, she
stood up heroic, and never complained since Margaret
thought it right to stand lest they might be taking up
somebody's place. Margaret's happiness was not so
complete. She was able for a time to enjoy the conscious-
ness that all her troublous thoughts had come to nothing,
and that Lilias' succes was unquestionable. But, alas J
there came with this the thought that it was all owing
to Lewis. His friends had given the invitations ; the
young men who were contending for Lilias' dances were
all friends of his. It was supposed that the ladies were
his relatives, a family group whom he had brought up,
all fresh and original, from the country. Thus the sweet-
ness was encompassed with bitterness, and surrounded
with embarrassment. How was she to keep her hostile
position and receive such favours ? Her enjoyment
was marred by all these questions and thoughts, which
kept her still alive and awake when, in the dawning, Lewis

?ut them into their carriage — Lewis again — always Lewis,
t was to Margaret he devoted himself ; he had taken
her to supper, he had paid every attention that a son or
brother could have paid her.

" We are enemies," he had said — " generous enemies
respecting each other. We will hob and nob to-night,
but to-morrow I know you will not recognize me in the
Row."

" I am far from sure that I am going to the Row — it is
just a waste of time," Margaret said, with a literalness
which it pleased her sometimes to affect. And Lewis
laughed. He was himself somewhat excited, and his

224 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

laugh had a nervous sound. He had been very generous,
he felt. He had not tried to absorb Lilias ; the utmost
propriety had regulated all his actions ; he had pre-
sented to her the most attractive people he knew ; his
behaviour had been almost angelic. He held Margaret's
hand for a moment (he was so audacious) as she followed
the others into the carriage.

" We are to go on the same rule as before," he said ;
"it is to be pure selfishness ; but you will not refuse to
accept other invitations for fear of meeting me."

" You are right about the principle, Mr. Murray,"
said Margaret, with seriousness, " but, as for your fine
friends and their invitations, it will be time enough to
answer them when I get them. Word of mouth is one
thing — but more is necessary for Lilias." And then she
bade him " good-night," or rather " good-morning," lean-
ing out of the window of the carriage to prevent any inter-
change of glances. There was pure selfishness in that
action, at least.

From this time the remainder of their season in London
was almost too brilliant. Though Margaret was greatly
subdued, and would take little pleasure in the thought
that it was " the best people " to whose houses they went,
and whose acquaintance they made, she yet did not refuse
the invitations, and watched Lilias enjoying herself with
a swelling heart. Lilias, for her part, had no arriere
pensee. She enjoyed her gaieties with all her heart, and
recovered from her awe, and set as small store by her
partners and admirers as she had done at Murkley. For
it had been decided that she was a beauty in the highest
circles. At home she had only been a pretty girl ; but,
when fashion took Lilias up, she became a beauty out of
hand. She was the Scotch 'beauty, which was distinction
enough. Her sweet complexion, her fair locks, too fair
to be golden, the dazzling freshness of her altogether, were
identified with her country in a way which perhaps neither
Margaret nor Jean fully appreciated. Margaret, who had
prepared herself at least a dozen times to clo final battle
with Lewis, and show him conclusively, as she had
threatened at first, that " he would make "nothing by it,"
was almost disappointed that he provoked no explanation,
and never indeed thrust himself upon them except in

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 225

society, where he was their good genius. Was this a
policy so astute that her simple wisdom was scarcely
capable of understanding it ? or was it that he had
thought better of his suit, and meant to give up an effort so
hopeless ? This last supposition did not perhaps bring so
much pleasure with it as Margaret would have wished.
For in fact she had rather looked forward to the final
battle and trial of strength, and did not feel satisfied to
think that she was to be allowed to walk over the field.

CHAPTER XXXVI

" I DO Jiot ask what you are doing or how you are doing
it — I am only asking if you are making progress, which
is the great thing. No doubt they will be seeing every-
body in London, and, though she is not to call a great
heiress, she is a beautiful person — and an old castie in Scot-
land, though it's much the worse for wear, is always some-
thing. There's a romance about it.'1

Mr. Allenerly was in London, as he said, upon business,
but also with a view to such sober-minded amusement as
a play, and a dinner or two with Scotch members at
their clubs. He had come to see Lewis before going to
pay his respects, as it was his duty to do, at Cadogan
Place.

" I am afraid I have made little progress," said Lewis.
" Miss Margaret is as unfavourable to me as ever. I think
she expects me to speak to her again ; but what is the
good ? She has steeled her heart against me. We have
seen a good deal of each other in society — and I do not
think she dislikes me ; but she will not give in, and what is
the use of a struggle "

" Then you are giving in ? Do you mean to tell me
that ? throwing up your arms for two old maids "

" I will not have my dear ladies spoken of so — I throw
up no arms. If I do not succeed, it will not be mv
fault."

There was a faint smile about Lewis' mouth, a dreamy

8

226 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

pleasure which diffused itself over his face, and seemed to
dim his eyes, like a cloud just bursting, with the sunshine
beyond it, and no darkness in it at all.

" That is the best road in the long run," Mr. Allenerly
said.

" When it is successful," said Lewis, with a grimace
which was partly comic and partly very serious. " Every
way is the best way when it succeeds."

" But you have never told me how you got rid of the
other : how you got out of that mistake you made. It

was a terrible mistake that first try '

Mr. Allenerly had a broad grin on his face. He had
every respect for the Murkley ladies, whom he had known
all their lives. They were considerably younger than he
was, and he did not yet care to call himself an old man ;
but the joke of a proposal to Miss Jean was one which no
masculine virtue could withstand.

" I did not get rid of her at all," said Lewis, with gravity,
" if you will understand it, Mr. Allenerly. I am deeply
attached to Miss Jean, and when you smile at my friend
it hurts me. There is no room for smiling. She was
more gentle even than to refuse, she prevented me. After
I have told you my foolish presumption, it is right that
you should know the end of the story : and that is, it makes
me happy to tell you, that we are dear friends."

The lawyer kept eyeing the young man while he spoke,
with a sarcastic look ; and, though he was by no means
sure that Miss Jean's position had been so dignified as was
thus represented, he felt, at least, that Lewis' account of
it was becoming and worthy.

" You speak like a gentleman," he said, " and I have
always felt that you acted like a gentleman, Mr. Lewis.
And, this being so, it just surprises me that in one thing,
and only one thing, you have come a little short. Being

the real gentleman you are "

" You think so ? I am very glad you are of that mind.
It perplexes me sometimes what is the meaning of the
word. There are many things which gentlemen permit
themselves to do. But you are more experienced than I
am. You understand it."

" I hope so," said Mr. Allenerly, " and a real gentleman
you have proved, if just not in one small particular, Mr.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 227

Lewis. I call you by the name you have most right to.
You should have let Miss Margaret know who you are."
Lewis looked at him with a -startled air.
" Do you think so ? " he said. " But then there would
have been no hope for me," he added, with simplicity.

" That should be of no consequence in comparison with
what was right. You see," said the lawyer, with true en-
joyment, " that is just the difference between your foreign
ways and what you call the English method. We think
nothing amiss here of a young man ' speerin' the bonnie
lass herselV It is natural, as, after all, she is the person
most concerned. But what we cannot away with," said
Mr. Allenerly, " is any sort of mystery, even when it's
quite innocent, about a man's name or his position, or
what we call his identity. There's no social crime like
going under a false name."

Lewis' countenance had grown longer and longer under
this address. He grew pale ; there was no question on
which he was so susceptible.

" But," he cried, with a guilty flush of colour, "it is
not a false name. It was his wish, his last wish, that I
should take it. If I wavered, it was because I was sick
at my heart. I did not care. In such circumstances a

false name That is what cannot be said. It is a

wrong," he said, vehemently, " to me."

" You may be justified in taking the name," said the
lawyer, " but not in using it, which is what I complain of,
with intention to deceive."

Lewis paused long over this, pondering with troubled
face. " You never," he said, " told me so before."

" I never had the chance. You had settled your mode
of action, and were known to all the village before I ever
heard you were in Scotland ; and then what could I say ?
— I hoped you would perhaps give it up."

" I shall never give it up," cried Lewis, " till it is quite
beyond all hope."

" Which you think it is not now ? But, my young
friend, just supposing that you are right, and that the
young lady herself should decide for you, which she is
no doubt quite capable of doing. In that case there would
come a moment, you will allow, in which all would have to
be explained."

8*

228 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

In all his life Lewis had never had such a problem
to solve. In the face of success so probable that, but for
the reverence of true feeling, which can never be certain
of its own acceptance, and his sense of the wonderf illness
of ever having belonging to him that foundation of all
relationship, the love which means everything, he would
almost have ventured to be sure — was very hard to throw
himself back again, to undo all his former building, to
present himself under a different light, in the aspect of one
iiot indifferent, but hated, not a stranger, but cne who
had done them cruel wrong. The question was debated
between the two men until the heart of Lewis was sick
with uiidesired conviction. Mr. Allenerly, to whom it
was a matter of business, and who was an entirely un-
emotional person, had, it need not be Said, the best of
the argument. The conclusion, however, which they came
to at last wr'as that this one evening, almost the last before
the ladies left town, and which Lewis was to spend in
their company, should be left to him — an indulgence of
which Mr. Allenerly did not approve ; but that after
this the matter should be left in the lawyer's hands, and
he should be entrusted with a full explanation of every-
thing to lay before Margaret. With this he went away
grumbling, shaking his head, but in his heart very pitiful
and determined so to fight his young client's battles that
Miss Margaret, were she as obstinate as a personage whom
Mr. Allenerly called the old gentleman, should be com-
pelled to yield ; and Lewis was left to prepare for his last
night.

His last night !

Something must come of it, either the downfall of
all his dreams, or something far more delightful, happy,
and brilliant than the finest society could give. He had
looked forward to this climax since ever the time of the
ladies' departure had become visible, so to speak. At
first a month or six weeks seemed continents of time ;
but when these long levels dwindled to the speck of a
single week, it had become apparent to Lewis that he must
delay no longer. He would have liked to say what he
had to say in the woods of Murkley, in some corner full
of freshness and verdure, in the silence and quiet of Nature.
To say it in a corner of a ball-room, with the" vulgar music

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 229

blaring and the endless waltz going on, was a kind of
profanation. But there was no help for it. He had
waited till the last day, and he had arranged the very
spot, the best that could be found in such a scene, the shade
of a little thicket of palms in a conservatory where there
was little light, and where only habitues knew the secrets-
of the place. It had been before his mind's eye for days
and nights past. The cool air full of perfumes, the
Oriental leafage, the shaded light, the sounds of revelry
coming faint from the distance. He would take Lilias there
under pretence of showing her something, and, when they
had reached this innermost hermitage, what if the thing
he had to show her was his heart ?

So Lewis had planned. He had chosen to dine alone,
that nothing might disturb him, but the feverish anticipa-
tion which was in him was so much twisted and strained
by the lawyer's ill-starred appearance, that he was sorry
he had not company to deliver him from himself and the
too great pressure of his thoughts.

At last the moment came. He felt himself to change
colour like a girl, now red, now white, as he set out for
the ball, late because his heart had been so early. He did
not know how he was" to get through the first preliminaries
of it, the talking and the dancing, until the time should
come when he could find a pretext to lead Lilias away.
The programme was nearly half through before he got int«r
the room, where, after an anxious inspection, he saw his
three judges, his fates, the ladies of Murkley, all standing
together. Lilias was not dancing ; she was looking, he
thought, a little distraite. He stood and watched her
from the doorway, and saw her steal one or two long
anxious looks through the crowd. The sisters, he thought,
looked grave — was it that Allenerly had not respected
their bargain, that he had gone at once to make the
threatened explanation ? Lewis lingered gazing at them
in the distance, racking his soul with questions which he
might no doubt have solved at once. All at once he saw
the countenance of Lilias light up ; her face took a cheer-
ful glow, her eyes brightened, the smile came back to her
lip. Was this because she had seen him ? He could not
help feeling so, and a warm current began to flow back
into his heart. She seemed to tell her sisters, and they,

8t

^30 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

too, looked, Miss Jean waving her hand to him, and even
Miss Margaret more gracious than her wont. How often
a little gleam like this, too bright to last, fictitious even
in its radiance, comes suddenly over the world before a
storm ! He made his way towards them, ignoring the
salutations of his friends. When he reached them, Mar-
garet herself, who generally used but scant courtesy to
him, was the first to speak.

" We thr ohc you were not coming," she said, " and I
fear you have not been well. You're looking pale."

" Dear me, Margaret, he is looking anything but pale —
he has just a beautiful colour," Miss Jean said, giving him
her hand.

And then he felt that Margaret looked at him with
interested eyes — with eyes that were almost affectionate.

" I do not like changes like that," she said. " I am
afraid you are not well, and all this heat and glare is not
good for you."

It had the strangest effect upon Lewis that she should
speak to him as if it mattered to her whether he was ill.
or well. Even with Lilias' hand in his, he was touched
by it. His heart smote him that he was not fighting
fair. Surely she was an antagonist worthy to be met with
a noble and unsullied glaive. He could not" help giving her a
warning even at the last moment.

r " You are very good to think of me," he said. " It
is the mind, not the body. I have had a great deal to
think of." Surely a clever woman could understand that.
Then he turned to Lilias. " This is the dance you promised
me," he said.

Nothing could be more audacious or more untrue, but
she acquiesced without a question. She had scarcely danced
all the evening. Some wave from his excessive emotion
had touched Lilias. She scarcely knew that she was
thinking of him, but she was preoccupied, restless. She
had told the others that she was tired, that this last
-evening she meant to look on. How deeply she, too, felt
that it was the last evening ! There was thunder in the
air — something was coming — she knew it, though she
could not tell what it was.

The young pair danced a little, but he was not capable
of this amount of self-denial.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 231

" Do you want to dance very much ? " he said. " Then
let us go and find a quiet corner, and rest."

" That is what I should like," said Lilias, though she had
said to her other suitors that she wanted to look on. " I
am tired too. I never thought I should have had as many
balls in my life."

" It is not the balls we have had — but the thought that
this is the last which troubles me."

" Yes," said Lilias, "it is a little strange. So long as
it has been ; and then all to come to an end. But every-
thing comes to an end," she added, after a moment. A
more trite reflection could not be ; but Shakespeare,
they both felt, could not have said anything more pro-
foundly and touchingly true.

" Come into the conservatory," he said. "It is cool ;
and there will be nobody there. "

Lilias raised no objection. She liked the idea that
there would be nobody there. She was quite ready to be
talked to, ready to declare that quiet conversation was, in>
certain cases, preferable to dancing. It was because they
had both danced so much, Lilias supposed.

Heaven and earth ! He was so much disappointed,
so much irritated, that he could have taken the young
fellow by the shoulders and turned him out, when the
tittering girl would no doubt have followed. To think
that a couple of grinning idiots should have occupied that
place, chatterers who had nothing to say to each other
that might not have been said in the fullest glare of the
ball-room. Lewis was annoyed beyond description.
That secret corner commanded every part of the con-
servatory, though it was itself so sheltered. He could
not walk about with Lilias, and tell her his tale under
the spying of these two young fools, to whom an evident
courtship would have been a delightful amusement. He
was so disturbed that he could not conceal it from
Lilias, who looked at him with a little anxiety, and
asked :

" Are you really ill, as Margaret says ? "

" I am not ill, only fretted to death. I wanted to put
you in that chair, and talk to you. Does Margaret really
take any interest whether I am ill or not ? "

" Oh, a great deal of interest ! She thinks it her cHty

232 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

sometimes to look severe, but there is no one that has a
tenderer heart."

" But not to me. She never liked me."
" Oh, how can you say so ! " Lilias cried. " She likes
yOU — just as much as the rest."

Lewis was annoyed more than it was possible to say by
the appropriation of his hermitage. And now the
unexpected discovery that he was an object of interest
to Margaret caught him, as it were, by the throat.

" As much — ' he said, with a sigh, " and as little.
Will any one remember after you have been gone a
week ? "

" I suppose," said Lilias, " that you will still be dancing,
and dining, and driving about to Richmond, and going
everywhere — for much longer than that, till the season is
well over. "-

" I don't know what I may do," he said, disconsolately,
" That does not depend upon me. But, if I do, it will be
without my heart."

Lilias felt a great strain and commotion in her own
bosom, but she achieved a little laugh.

" Do you always say that when people you know are
going away ? "

He was angry, he wras miserable, he did not know what
he way saying.' Providence, if it was fair to connect
those two idiots with any great agency, had prevented
him. His programme of action seemed to be destroyed. .
He could not answer this little provocation with any of
those prefaces of the truth which would so soon have
brought everything to a crisis had they been seated together
under the palms. He said, almost sharply, which was so
unlike Lewis :

" You must go away ; that is a little soil of society.
You would not have said so at Murkley last year."

" Mr. Murray ! " cried Lilias.

The tears came suddenly to her eyes. It was as if
tie had struck her in the melting of her heart. She made
a gulp to get down a little sudden sob, like a child that
has been met with an unexpected check. And then she
said, softly :

" I do not think I meant it," with a look of apology and
wonder, though it was he who ought to have apologized.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 233

But he did not ; he pressed her hand close to his side almost
unconsciously.

" Do you remember," he cried, " that lovely morning —
was there ever such a morning out of heaven ? The river

and the birds just waking, and you standing in the bow

If it could but have lasted "

"It lasted long enough," said Lilias, with an effort.
4' It began to get cold ; and Katie whispering, whispering.
You never said a word all the time."
Again he pressed her hand to his side.
" And I cannot say a word now," he said. " Let us go
back and dance, or do something that is foolish ; for to-
think of that is too much. And Margaret takes an interest
in me ! I wish she had not looked at me so kindly. I wish
you had not told me that."

" I think you are a little crazy to-night." Lilias said.
Was there a touch of disappointment in her tone ? Had
she too thought that something would come of it ? And
the last night was going, was gone — and nothing had come.
Heaven confound Allenerly and all such ! And Margaret
to take an interest in him ! But for that lawyer, Margaret's
interest would have encouraged Lewis. Now it achieved
his overthrow. He was busy about them all the night,
making little agitated speeches to one and another, but he
did not again attempt to find the seat vacant under the
palms in the conservatory. He gave up his happier plans,
his hopes, with an inward groan. Whatever was to be
done now, must be done in the eye of the day.

CHAPTER XXXVII

MARGARET was in the act of adding up her bills, and
counting the expenses of the season, next morning, when
Mr. Allenerly was shown into the room. She rose from her
chair, and gave him a warm welcome ; for he was not only
their " man of business," but an old friend of the family.
She asked after his belongings, and if Scotland stood where
it did, as is the use of compatriots when they meet in a
strange country, and then she said, though not without
a certain keen" glance of curiosity — for the_visit of your

234 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

man of business may always have something important

lying under it, however innocent it appears :

" You will just have come to this great big Vanity
Fair of a place to divert yourself, like the rest of us ? "
- " A little of that — and a little thought of business too.
Lawyers have such an ill name that it is difficult to make
the world believe we take sometimes a great interest in
our clients, and like to look after them. But my diversion
would never be like yours. I hear there has been nothing
but triumph in your career. '-'•

" Triumph ! That is another question. You must have
a deal of money, and not much sentiment, I should say,
to make a triumph in London — but we were not thinking
of anything of that kind. We have had some very pleasant
society, and that is as much as we wanted."

" I know what that means," said Mr. Allenerly. " I .
have heard of Miss Lilias ; that there is nothing talked
about but the young Scots' beauty, and all the conquests
she has made."

" Toot ! " said Margaret ; and then she melted a little.
" Everybody has been very kind. And we have seen a
great deal — more than I ever expected, such quiet people
as we are. But as for triumph, that is a large word.
Whatever it has been, it has not turned her head."

" There is too much sense in it for that," said the lawyer.

" The sense in a young person's head of her age is never
much to be trusted to. But she just takes everything,
the monkey, as if she had a right to it, and that is a greater
preservation than sense itself."

" I am thinking," said Mr. Allenerly, " that, after having
all those grandees at her feet, it will be ill to please her with
a plain Scots lad."

£ Miss Margaret gave him another keen look, but, though
she had a great deal of curiosity herself as to his meaning,
she did not intend to satisfy his curiosity. She laughed,
accepting the inference, though turning over in her mind
at the same time the question v/hat Scots lad the lawyer
could be thinking of. Not long-leggit Philip, it was to
be hoped !

"There is no hurrv," she said, "for any decision of
that kind."

" There is no hurry on her side," said Mr. Allenerly,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 235

" but on the other side there is generally a wish for an
answer. So that I was thinking — But you will stop me,
if there is any absolute bar in the way of what I was going
to take upon me to say."

He looked at her with much keenness of inspection too,
and their eyes met like two rival knights, without much
advantage on either hand.

" I can scarcely do that," said Miss Margaret, " till I
know what it is you are going to say."

Mr. Allenerly was tolerably satisfied by these prelimin-
aries. Had there been any approaching brilliant marriage
for Lilias, it must have been somehow revealed to him.
He said :

" I am going to refer to events in the past that were
painful at the time. Things have come to my knowledge
that have made me wishful to interfere. There is a person
who was once, without any will of his, an instrument of
wrong to this family."

" Dear me, that is a very serious beginning," Miss
Margaret said.

" And it will be more serious before the end. I am not
going to beat about the bush with you. You are too well-
informed and have too much judgment to take up a thing,
hastily. You will remember, Miss Margaret, all the vexa-*
tion and trouble there was about your grandfather's
will."

" Remembor it ! I would have a short memory or an
easy mind if I did not remember all about it. It is not
three years since."

" That is true ; and there was a great deal of vexation.
Such a thing, when it arises in a family, just spreads
trouble."

" I don't know what you call vexation — that's an easy
word. It was just burning wrong, and injustice, and
injury. There was nothing in it that was not hateful to
think upon and bitter to bear. I wonder that any one
who wishes well to the family should be able to speak of
it in that way."

" And yet I have been one that has wished well to the
family — for more years than I care to reckon," the lawyer
said.
. " Grant me your pardon, Mr. Allenerly ! I try to put

236 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

it out of my mind as a Christian woman should ; but,
when I think of it, I just lose my patience. Vexation !
it wras just a bitter wrong and shame all the ways of it,
both to him that gifted it and us that lost it."-

" That is all true — it is all true : and nobody would
suspect me of making little of it. At the same time, Miss
Margaret, I will own that there was one part of the story
that I was deceived in. The young, man that wrongously
got this inheritance—

" The favourite, the foreign swindler."
" That is just where we were deceived," cried the lawyer,
hastily throwing up his hand as if to stop the invective.
' ' The young man — Miss Margaret, if you will have a
little patience ! Am I one to be easily convinced, or
without chapter and verse ? You have called me a bundle
of prejudice before now. I am fond of nothing foreign ;
an intriguer is just what I cannot abide. Well, but this
young man was neither foreign nor a swindler. He was
not to blame. I declare it to you, if it was my dying
word — he was not to blame."

Miss Margaret got up, and began to pace the little room
in great excitement. It was the little back room attached
to the dining-room, and was very small. She was like a
lion in a cage. She put up her hand, and turned away from
him with an expression of resentment and scorn.
" That is a likely thing to say to me ! '•'-
" It is not an easy thing to say to you — you will grant
that ; but it is true. He was young, and had been taken
by Sir Patrick from a child ; he was an orphan and
friendless. He knew nothing about the Murrays. He
;did not even know that his benefactor had any children.
He gave up the best of his life to nursing and tending the
did man. A woman could not have been kinder. He
expected nothing ; when he heard what had happened,
that he was the heir, he thought it would at most be to
all the nicknacks and the gimcracks. He was thunder-
struck when he knew what it was. I was on the look-out
.for deceptions, and I thought this was one. I will not
.deny it, I was of your opinion. You are not taking any
notice of what I say."

" On the contrary," said Miss Margaret, with a laugh of
disdain, *' I am taking the greatest notice of it. And how

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 237

did you come to change your opinion ? He must be a
clever fellow, this person, to get over a Scotch writer too."

" It is not so easy to get over a Scotch writer, as you
say," said Mr. Allenerly, wiping his forehead. " What got
over me was just experience of the lad. I have had a
great deal to do with him. What with letters and what with
observation, I've come to know him. It is not that he's
difficult to know. It was all in him at the first glance, but
I could not believe it. I thought it was certain he must
be a deceiver. But he is no deceiver. He is more simple
than the generality. You will believe me or you will not
believe me, as you please ; but what I am saying is true.'4

" It would be impossible for me not to believe — that
you are speaking what you think the truth — just as im-
possible," said Miss Margaret, " as it is to believe that this
is the truth. Was the old man doited then ? was he mad ?
had he lost every sense of what was due to those that came
after him ? Then why did not you, a man of the law like
you, prove him so ? This was what I never understood
for my part."-

" He was neither mad not doited, but knew what he
was doing well, or, you may be sure, if there had been, any

proof There was no undue influence ; the young

man did not so much as know what there was to leave,
or if there was a will at all.'-1

" This is a very likely story," said Margaret, with a
grim smile, " and I acknowledge, at all events, that there
is a kind of genius in making you believe it all."

The lawyer gave her a look of indignation and anger,
but restrained himself with professional power.

" The General," he said — " you will forgive me, Miss
Margaret : far be it from me to say a word to his dis-
advantage— but he was not what you would call a dutiful
son. There was no question of that, you will say, at his
age — which is true enough. And Sir Patrick had been
long abroad, and none of you had ever gone near him, or
showed any interest in him."

" How could we ? " cried Margaret, roused to instant
self-defence. " Was it our part ? We were women, never
stirring from home. If he had held up a finger — if he had
given us the least invitation "

" And, on the other hand, why should he ? " said the

238 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

lawyer. " He had a kind of son of his old age that had
no thought but his comfort. Why should he put himself
out of the way to invite his grandchildren, that cared
nothing about him ? If he had known you and your sister,

or if he had seen that bonnie creature, Miss Lilias "

" I am glad," cried Margaret, vehemently, " that we
were never beguiled to travel all that long way and put
ourselves and Lilias into competition with the wriggling
creature you call the son of his old age — I am thankful
for that with all my heart."

" Then you will pardon me for saying you are thankful
for small mercies," the lawyer said, in an indignant tone.
They paused, both eyeing each other for the moment with
equal displeasure and breathing quick with excitement.
" There seems but small encouragement," said Mr. Allen-
erly, with that air of compassionate resignation which is
so irritating .to an antagonist, " for the rest that I had to
say ; for, if you will not listen to the first part of my -story,
it is very unlikely that you will put up with the second."-

" Oh, say on, say on ! " said Miss Margaret, with an
affectation of calm. She went into the next room through
the folding doors, and brought back her knitting, and
seated herself with a serene air of resignation in the one
easy-chair which the room contained. " I would like to
hear the whole," she said with a smile, " now that we are
on the subject. It is a pity to miss anything. If I were
what they call a student of human nature, it would be
just a grand amusement. A clever man, and an Edin-
burgh writer, and a person of judgment, telling me what's
neither more nor less than a fairy tale."

"It is God's truth" said Mr. Allenerly, sternly, "and
I dare any man to prove me mistaken ; but the rest, you
are right, it is like a fairy tale. This young man, finding,
after his first astonishment at being a rich man (he was
astonished to be rich, but not that his old friend, his pro-
tector, his godfather, as he called him, had made a will

in his favour, w;hich was the most natural thing ) "

" His— what did he call him ? " Margaret said, with a
start, looking up.

" His godfather — that was the name of kindness between
them."

A gleam of fierce light came over Margaret's face. She

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 239

threw down her knitting and clasped her hands forcibly
together.

"Ah! " she cried, in the tone of one upon whom a
sudden light had been thrown ; then she said, "Go on !
go on ! " with an angry smile.

" I say he was sorely astonished, overcome at first, and
it took him a long time to accustom himself to it. He
knew nothing about any relations, and, when he was told
of their existence, you'll excuse me for saying that he would
not believe in them — saying, as was quite natural, that
nobody ever came near the old man, that he was quite
alone in the world. But we have already discussed that
question. I let him know, however, that it was true, and
it made a great impression on him. For one thing, it
wounded him in his love for old Sir Patrick : for, after
hearing that, he could not regard him as just the perfect
being he had supposed."

"That was a very delicate distress, Mr. Allenerly,'*
Margaret said, with fine sarcasm.

" He had a very delicate mind, as you shall see," said
the lawyer, equally caustic. " The second thing was that
he conceived a grand idea of setting the wrong right. He
heard that the heirs were all ladies, and his determination
was taken in a moment — it was without any thought of
pleasing himself, or question whether they were old or
young — just to come to Scotland and offer himself to one
of them."

Margaret rose from her seat with a start of energy. She
flung her knitting from her in the fervour of her feelings.

" There is no need to say any more," she cried,
vehemently, " not another word. I know who your friend
is now. I know who he is. Lord in heaven ! that I
should have been one of the credulous too ! "

" If you know who he is, there is the less need "

" Not another word," she cried, putting up her hand,
" not another word. To think that I should have been
taken-in too ! Oh ! I see it all now. I might have thought
what was the motive that made him so keen after one of
us. Jean first, and, when that would not do, Lilias.
Lilias ! as if I would give my child, my darling, the apple
of my eye, to a man of straw, a man of nothing, a man
that has just her money and nothing more. And so that

240 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

was what it was ! and me trying to find out what M arrays
he was come of. Man!" she cried, turning upon the
lawyer with a movement which resembled the stamping of
her "foot in passion. " Oh, man ! why did you let me be
humbled so ? "

" Miss Margaret ! — is that all you will say ? "

" What more is there to say ? I am humbled to the
dust — I am just proved a fool, which is a bitter thing
for a woman to put up with. I have had him in my house.
I have let him come and go. I have accepted favours
at his hands. Lord ! " cried Miss Margaret again, in
passionate excitement, clasping her hands together, " it is
all his doing. I see it now. It is just all his doing. It is
he that brought these fine folk here. He got the invitations
for us that he might meet her. He has been at the bottom
of everything. And I — I have been a fool — a fool ! and
would never have seen through it till doomsday, and was
getting* to be fond of — Oh ! " she cried, stamping her foot
on the ground, unable to contain herself, " is this me,
Margaret, that have always had such an opinion of myself ?.
and now I am just humbled to the ground ! "

" There is little occasion for being humbled — if you never
do anything less wise —

" Hold your tongue, sir," she cried; " oh ! hold your
tongue. It has been a scheme, a plot, a conspiracy from the
beginning. I see through it all now. Mr. Allenerly, I
beg your pardon. If I am ill-bred to you, it just that there
is more than I can bear ! "

" Be as ill-bred as you please, if that is any ease to you ;
but, Miss Margaret, be just. You are a just woman. Oh !
think what you are doing. You are not one to give way to
a sudden passion."

" I am just one to give way to passion ! What else
should I do ? Would you have me to take it like a matter
of business, or, maybe, thank your friend for his good
intentions," she cried, with a laugh of anger. They both
belonged to a race and class which forbids such demon-
strations of feeling ; but righteous wrath is always
exempted from the range of those sentiments which are
to be kept under control.

While this interview was going on, Lewis was passing
through a strange revolution, a sort of volcanic crisis such

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 241

as had never happened in his life before. He had not been
trained to thought, nor was that his tendency. He had
all his life taken things as they came : au jour le jour had
been his simple philosophy, a maxim which may be the
most sublime Christianity or the most reckless folly. In
his case it was neither, but rather the easy temperament
of a simple nature, always able to reconcile itself to the
circumstances of the moment, rinding more or less enjoy-
ment in everything that happened, and very little pre-
occupied with its own personality at all. A prudent young
man would have been concerned as to what was to happen
to him after Sir Patrick's death, when his luxurious home
would be broken up, and he himself, without profession or
property, throv/n upon the world ; bat Lewis had given
the matter no thought at all, with an easy confidence of
. always rinding bread and kindness, which both the circum-
stances of his life and the disposition of his friends had
fostered. Afterwards, when he found himself Sir Patrick's
heir and a man of fortune, he accepted that too with
surprise, but an easy reconciliation of all confused matters,
which, had he contemplated the subject in all its lights,
would have been impossible. It was only by degrees that
he woke to the other side of the question, the position of
the despoiled heirs. Then, the reader of this history is
aware, his resolution had been uncompromising. He had
not thought of his own satisfaction at all. Having come
to the decision that Sir Patrick's heiress, or at least one
of Sir Patrick's heiresses, should have back the inheritance
in the only way that occurred to him as practicable, he
had set about" it at once in the most straightforward
manner possible. He had been ready to subordinate his
own feelings, to consider only the question of duty. In
every way that had seemed possible to him he had pursued
this object. When it happened, in pursuit of this duty,
that love stepped in, dazzling and bewildering, yet intensi-
fying to the highest degree his previous purpose, it had been
a boon from heaven, a blessing upon that purpose rather
than a new object. It seemed to him another proof that
he was born under a happy star, that the one woman
in the world whom he desired to marry should also be the
one in the world with whom it was his duty to share every-
thing that was his. It was this that made all methods

242 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

seem lawful to him, and had stirred him to the intention,
which was contrary to all his prejudices, of obtaining, if
possible, her assent to his suit, without the previous know-
ledge or even against the wish of her family — the English
way — the way that Philip Stormont and Katie Seton, and
indeed everybody about, thought legitimate. But now,
for the first time Lewis had been driven out of his easy
philosophy. Mr. Allenerly's stern conception of honour,
the new light upon the whole subject that had been thrown
by the lawyer's lantern, had found those openings in the
young man's mind which a new and deeper sentiment than
any he had ever known had opened in him. The natural
affections may be ever so warm and lovely without startling
the soul into any new awakening. Full of friendship, full
of kindness, he had been all his life more prone to serve
and help than even to enjoy : but when a great primary
passion, one of the elementary principles of life, goes down
into the depths of innocent nature the effect is different.
It is like the Divine life, when that enters into a soul, bring-
ing not peace but a sword. He began to think, almost for
the first time in his life.

And the first result of this process is seldom a pleasant
one. When he had put the ladies into their carriage on
that last night, or rather morning — for the dawn was blue
in the streets, and London was coining slowly into sight
out of the darkness, with lamps burning unearthly in a
light far more potent than theirs — Lewis put his hat on
his head, and set out on a wonderful walk, which he re-
membered all his life. It was full day, nearly six o'clock,
when he got home, and threw himself on his bed unnaturally
in the sunshine. But it was not to sleep. Thinking was
so new a process to Lewis that he felt as if some new jarring
machinery had been set up in his brain, and the whirl of the
unaccustomed wheels made him giddy, and took away
all consciousness of mental progress. He seemed to be
in the same place, beating a painful round, with the whirl
and the movement and confusion, but nothing else, in his
bewildered brain. He must have slept, though he was
scarcely aware of it, late into the morning. But when
he was disturbed by the entrance of his servant, and sprang
up suddenly into full consciousness and life, the first flash
of self-recollection revealed to him a resolution formed

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 243

and perfect. Where had it come from ? Had the wheels
been working while he slept, and ground it out ? had
something above earth whispered it to him out of the
unseen ? He was almost afraid, when he saw it looking
him, as it were, in the face, a something separate from
himself, a definite thing, resolved and certain. It was not
there when he had come in ; where had it come from ?
He sprang up into the consciousness of a new world, a
new life, a changed order of things, as well as a new day.

When Mr. Allenerly came in about an hour after, Lewis
met him with a pale and somewhat jaded aspect, not in-
appropriate to a man who had been up all night, the
lawyer thought, but also subdued and grave as of one whose
reflections had not been of a happy kind. The lawyer came
in, himself very serious, with the painful sense that his
mission was to quash all the hopes and make an end of all
the plans which the other had been making himself happy
in forming. He sat down at the table on which Lewis'
breakfast stood untouched, without a word. The sight of
this partly reduced his sympathy for Lewis, for there was an
air of dissipation about it which displeased his orderly mind.
Perhaps, notwithstanding all the advantages of the arrange-
ment, a young man who had not breakfasted at twelve
o'clock was scarcely a fit husband for Lilias Murray, or
one in whose hands her happiness would be sure. He
sat down and looked at Lewis with a disapproving eye.

" You are very late," he said. " I will soon be thinking
of my lunch ; but I suppose you were up till all the hours
of the night."

" I don't think I have slept at all," said Lewis, " I have
been thinking. Stop and hear me first. I know by your
face what you are going to say. But that h^as nothing to
do with what I have made up my mind to. One way or
other, it could have nothing to do with it. Our talk yester-
day turned me all outside in. I never had thought it over
from the beginning to the end before."

" You must form no rash resolution," Mr. Allenerly said.

"It is the least rash I have ever formed. I suppose I
am not given to thinking. And, if it is wrong, it is you
who have set me on this way," Lewis said, with a wistful
sort of fatigued smile. " Now, before you say anything,
have patience and Jiear me out."

244 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THERE were many circumstances to add to the passionate
annoyance and irritation with which Margaret became aware
of the deception, as she conceived it, of which she had been
the victim. She saw now a hundred indications by which
she ought to have been able to make sure from the beginning
who and what the stranger was : his sudden appearance
at Murkley, a place calculated to attract nobody, which
even " those tourist-cattle," who roused Miss Margaret's
wrath, had, left out, where nobody came but for the fishing ;
his anxiety to secure their acquaintance, to recommend
himself to them, his suit to Miss Jean, so unlike anything
that had ever come in the way of the sisters before, even
his conversations, of which she recollected now disjointed
scraps and fragments quite enough to have betrayed him.
Twice over had he come to her to explain his wishes ;
the last time, she believed now (though that was a mis-
take), that he had meant to confess everything. And she
would not listen to him. Well, that was all honest enough ;
it had not been a wilful attempt to deceive her on his
part : but yet she had been completely deceived. How
blind she had been ! Had it not been plain to every eye
but hers ? Had the Setons suspected something ? Had
Jean known anything ? Was it possible — Margaret
started up and rang the bell with great vehemence. She
was so little in the habit of doing this that it brought
Simon rushing from below and Susan flying from above,
and Miss Jean in consternation to listen at the head of the
stairs.

"Is my sister ill ? " Jean said, trembling with appre-
hension.

" She would like if you would go and speak to her,
mem," said Susan, who had outstripped the heavier-footed
man. Simon was standing ready to open the door for her
into the little room in which Margaret was sitting.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 245

"' Is my sister ill ? " she asked again.
"' I reckon, mem, that something is wrong," Simon said,
in his deliberate voice.

" There is nothing wrong with me," said Miss Margaret.
"'' Sit down, sit down, and make no fuss, if you will not
drive me doited : I am well enough. But there is a
matter to be cleared up between you and me. Will you
tell- me frankly, Jean, eye to eye, what you know about this
young Murray that has just been haunting our house ? "

" About Mr. Murray ? " said Jean, looking more guilty
than ever criminal looked, innocent guilt faltering and
ready to betray itself in every line of her face.

" Just about Mr. Murray. I have said always he was
of no kent Murray s — were you in this secret all the time,
you, my sister, the other part of me ? Oh ! Jean, was
this well done ? I can read it in your face. You were
in his secret all the time."

" Margaret ! what do you call his secret ? " the culprit
said.

She was of the paleness of ashes, and sat twisting her
fingers nervously together, feeling her treachery, her un-
truth to her first allegiance, weigh upon her like something
intolerable. Her very eyelids quivered as she stole a
glance at Margaret's face.

" Do you mean his secret at Murkley," poor Miss Jean
said, breathless, " or his secret — here ? "

Margaret laughed aloud. The tones in this laugh were
indescribable — wrath, and scorn, and derision, and under-
neath all a pitiful complaint.

" It is evident you are farther ben than me, for I know of
but one secret," she said, " but we'll take them in succession,
if you please."

" Oh ! Margaret," said poor Jean, trembling, " was there
any harm in it ? There was harm in me, perhaps, but
what in him ? For who could see Lilias and not be in
love with her ? And then, when he saw us in London just
a little forlorn, and knowing so few folk, and him that had

everybody at his beck and call "

" Him that had everybody at his beck and call — Yes ? —

and then ? He took pity upon us and What are you

meaning ? Our friends in London," said Margaret, with
dignity, forgetting how she had, by the light of Mr.

246 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

Allenerly's statement, glimpsed the truth on this point
as well as on others, " are persons we have met at other
friends' houses in the ordinary way of society. There
was nobody came to me from him, except just perhaps
that old duchess who takes you to the music. Your friend's
compassion, Jean, I think, might have been spared."

" Oh, Margaret ! " faintly said the accused at the bar.

" Wliat do you mean by ' Oh, Margaret ' ? — is it not
true that I say ? What did it advantage us, I ask you,
that this young lad had everybody, as you say, at his
beck and call ? "

Jean gave a deprecatory, wistful glance at her sister, and
said nothing — but it was the look of one that had a great
deal to say : and there was that mixture of pity in it by
which Margaret had been moved to a passing wonder
before.

" What did he ever do," she repeated, scornfully, " when
he saw us, as you say, forlorn in London, and knowing few
folk ? It is a pretty description, but I cannot recognize
it as a picture of me," Margaret said, with a laugh of
resentment. The conviction that had flashed upon her
concerning their life in London had been intolerable, and
she had pushed it from her. She was ready now to resist
to desperation any suggestion that Lewis had served them
in society, or been instrumental in opening to them so
many fashionable houses. The consciousness in her mind
that this was so, gave heat and passion to her determination
to ignore it, and gave a bravado of denial to her tone.
" All this," she added, " is nothing, nothing to the main
subject ; but, as we are on it, let us be done with it. What
has your friend done for us ? — I am at a loss to know."

Jean was in a terrible strait, and knew not what to do.
She was divided between her desire to do justice to Lewis
and her desire to save Margaret pain. She hesitated,
almost prevaricated in her anxiety, but at last the story
burst forth. The Greek ball, the beginning of all, Mar-
garet had firmly believed all along, was a homage to the
importance of the Miss Murrays of Murkley, a natural
acknowledgment of their claims to be considered. She
could not help remembering the change that had occurred
in the aspect of affairs from the moment that Lewis had
appeared on the scene, but the invitation for which she

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 247

had wished so much, and the others that flowed from it,
Margaret had endeavoured to believe were natural : at
least the first — she had always clung to that. 'But when
Jean's story, extracted in fragments, with many a pro-
testation and many an unintended admission, fell upon
her ears, the sudden disenchantment was terrible. To
think that everything was his doing from beginning to end,
that he, this upstart, this minion, this foreign favourite,
should have been able to open the doors of fashion to those
whom he had so injured and supplanted, whose chief
enemy he was ! Was it to humiliate them still more, to
smite them down into deeper abasement,1 to triumph over
them in every way ? The pang which it gave Margaret
was too bitter for speech. There had been an appeal
made to him, and in his magnanimity — that easy magnani-
mity of the conqueror — he had responded to the appeal,
and had taken compassion upon them. It was a bitter
pill for a proud woman to swallow. Jean had appealed
to him, and he had been kind — oh ! these were the words.
He had been kind to the poor country ladies, and no doubt
presented them as originals, out of whom a little amuse-
ment could be had, to his fine friends. Margaret would
not even tell her sister, with whom she was indignant
beyond all possibility (she thought) of forgiveness, what
she had heard this morning. Her mortification, her
sense of having been tricked and cheated, was too great :
the only thing she could think of was to turn her back upon
this hated place with all its delusions.

" I am just sick of London," she said ; " my very heart
is sick. Get your packing done this afternoon. I will not
spend another day here. I think we will go home to-
night."

" To-night ! " cried Jean, with dismay. To oppose
a decision of Margaret was impossible, and she felt guilty,
and wounded, and miserable, out of favour, out of heart.
But yet to be obliged to cut off her little leave-takings, and
not to see him, the cause of all this, the friend who had
been so kind, so tender, so eager to carry out all her wishes
was very hard. And even to travel at night was alarming
and terrible to Miss Jean : she thought the dangers of the
way were doubled by the darkness, and that very likely
there would be a railway accident. " It is very sudden,"

248 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

she said. " Ob ! Margaret, I know you are ill-pleased
at me. I am sorry — sorry ! if I have done what was foolish
it was with a good intention ; but will you change all
our plans just for that, only for that ? "

" Onlv for that ! " said Margaret. " Only for what is
burnt iii on me in shame, and should on you still more,
if you had the heart — to have been indebted to our enemy,
to "have sought the help of him, if there had not been
another man in the world, that should have been the
last "

" Oh ! Margaret," cried poor Miss Jean, " you are un-
just. You are cruel. He is nobody's enemy. You may
think him not good enough for Li lias, — for who^ would
seem good enough for Lilias to you and me ? — but an
enemy he is none. Oh, no enemy, but a friend : or more
like a son, a brother."

Margaret rose with a stern intensity of tone and look
that made her sister tremble.

" Do you know who this friend is," she said, grimly,
" this brother, this lover, this benefactor ? His name is
not Murray, but Lewis Grantiey, a name you have heard
before. He is your grandfather's heir. He has gotten
the inheritance of Lilias. And now, seeing she is a lovelier
thing even than the inheritance, this creature of nothing,
this subtile serpent, this practise? upon an old man's weak-
ness, would. have her too."

Jean had risen also, with eyes full of horror, in the extre-
mity of her astonishment. She lifted her arms, she
opened her lips to cry out, but no sound came. She stood
an image of dumb consternation and misery gazing at her
sister. No doubt of Jean's innocence from all complicity
in the secret could be entertained by any one who saw
her. She stood dumb, staring at Margaret for some
minutes. Then her breast began to labour with choking
sobs.

" Oh ! no, no. Oh ! no, no — no, no," she ran on, unable
to restrain herself. It was a protest which was pitiful,
like the cry of a dumb creature unable to articulate.
Hysterics were unknown in the family, and Margaret was
alarmed. It subdued her anger in a moment, and relieved
her own oppressed and excited mind by giving her a new
subject, of concern. She put Jean into the easy-chair,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 249

and brought her wine, and soothed her : in the midst of
whjch process Lilias came into the room, all fresh and
radiant, untouched by any darker knowledge.

" Just run away, my dear, Jean is not very well. I want
her to stay quite quiet just for two or three minutes, and
then she will come to you upstairs."

" But why should I run away ? Let me take care
of her, Margaret. How pale she is ! " cried Lilias, in
alarm.

" There is — no — nothing the matter with me," said
Jean, tremulously, making shift to smile, and waving her
hand to her darling. " I'll be better — in two or three
minutes."

" Just run away, my dear," Margaret repeated : and
Lilias, as she was told, ran away, in considerable alarm
and uneasiness. But, after all, there was nothing so
alarming in tfye fact that Jean was pale, and wanted to be
quiet for two or three minutes, and the fear soon dissipated
itself. When the door was closed upon her, the two sisters
looked at each other : the shadow of anger that had been
between them had passed away. It even brought them
nearer together, this secret which was so momentous but
which she, that young creature whom it was their happiness
to guard from all evil, knew nothing of. Jean pressed
Margaret's hand which held hers.

" You will not tell her ? " she said.

" That is what we must see — and judge," said the elder
sister. " We must think of it when you are better."

Margaret said I oftener than we. It was a pledge of
renewed union and closer fellowship, which brought back
Jean's smile.

And next morning they left London. It had not been
intended that they should go away till the end of the
week, and their abrupt departure was the occasion of
various disturbances of other people's plans. The person
whom it was chiefly designed to affect was Lewis, who,
knowing as he did the crisis that had been reached, and
occupied indeed with the still more extraordinary crisis
in his own existence, was not affected by it at all. He had
never, during all the intercourse of those six weeks, been
invited to Cadogan Place. He had been admitted occasion-
ally when he called, latterly almost always, and it had

250 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

been supposed by all the ladies that he would come to bid
them good-bye. But after the interview between Margaret
and Mr. Allenerly there was an end to that intention, and
it was only by chance he discovered their premature de-
parture, which did not move him ; for he had run through
all the gamut of emotion, and nothing seemed now to
matter. But as Lewis stood, more pensive than dis-
appointed, gazing at the house, in the window of which
once more hung the intimation that it was to let, and where
a charwoman appeared at the door in place of Simon, some
one else strode up, to whom it was, to all appearance,
much more important. This was Philip Stormont, who,
though he could not follow the ladies into the fashionable
world, had hung about them whenever and wherever
he could, following them to the park, turning up in all
their walks, attaching himself like a sort of amateur foot-
man to the party. Lilias had been very cold to him for
some time after that evening at the 'theatre, but by-and-by
had slid into her old habit of a sort of sisterly indifference,
thinking it not necessary to make much account of what
Philip said or did. And her sisters were always " kind —
enough," as Miss Jean said, to the young man whose
lands marched with Murkley, their nearest county neigh-
bour, whom they had known all his life. He went briskly
up to the door, undismayed by a certain vacant air, and
the ticket in the window. Indeed he had not observed these
signs. And, when he was met by the charwoman with
the news, his astonishment and indignation knew no
bounds.

" Gone ! Why, I was to go with them. Are you sure
they are gone ? " he said, with a dismay that was almost
ludicrous. When he perceived Lewis a little way off,
he hurried up to him. " Do you understand anything
about this ? " he said, with a sense of injured antagonism to
everybody who could be supposed to be in the ladies'
confidence. There had always been a jealous feeling in his
mind in respect to Lewis, whose constant presence at
all the fine places of which Lilias spoke, to which he him-
self had no way of procuring admittance, had given him a
feasible ground of complaint. But a common grievance is
a great bond. When Lewis had declared his ignorance,
in a tone from which even his insensibility to further pain

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 251

could not take a certain pathos, Philip, in the excitement of
his feelings, obliged to talk to some one, seized upon his
arm, and poured out his heart.

" They just play with a man," he cried, " these women.
They don't care a bit what they do to you, so long as it
doesn't touch themselves. I was to go with them. It was
all settled. Our way was the same, as far as the railway
goes — as far as the waterside, for that matter ; for you
remember how near we are And here they are, off with-
out a word, without a single word ! not so much as to say,
' We are going sooner than we thought/ or anything like
that — but no, not a word ! I was coming to ask where I
was to meet them, and if I should take the tickets, and
so forth."

Lewis did his best to dissipate the victim's dilemma.
He suggested a sudden change in their plans, a lost message,
a mistake of one kind or another, till Philip was somewhat
mollified.

" You see," he said, thrusting his arm through that of
his sympathetic friend, " I came here at first with no will
of mine. A man should be left free one way or other. If
the mother is to have so much say as my mother has, the
son should be free to go where he likes, and make his
own way ; but, as it is, I am neither laird nor loon, if
you understand what that means. I have the name of
being independent ; but, if my mother were to take away
her share and leave me with that house to keep up, where
would I be ? So I have to be guided by her in many ways,
whether I will or not."

" I do not suppose that she is very hard to please," said
Lewis, politely.

" Oh, I don't know about that 1 She has always had
her own way, and she likes it. So do I, for that matter.
But, you see, for years past there has never been but a
craik about Lilias Murray. She was ' the only girl my
mother would ever hear of : our lands march ; and then
the Murrays are a great family, and then —

" Do you think it is right to talk of things so private to
me ?"

" Oh, you ! — you are just the person to talk to them
about. You are a stranger, you are an outsider ; it
cannot be any concern of yours. And then you know what

252 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

an ass I made of my self last year," Philip said, reddening,
and with an embarrassed laugh.

" I do not know about the ass," said Lewis, gravely;
" I know — what was happening last year."

" Well, it comes to the same thing, you know. My
mother would not hear of that — It is all very well
for a fellow like you, that are independent, . that never
needs to think of "pleasing anybody but yourself. But I
can do nothing without my mother. As for marrying or
that sort of thing, it would be out of the question. If
she gave me up, I should be as poor as a church-mouse :
so I am obliged to mind what she says. And then, if
truth must be told, I got just a little tired of the affair
itself."

" I don't think," said Lewis, disengaging his arm, -"that
it is quite comme il fa-it to say so."

" Corn-eel — what do you mean by that ? It began
when I was too young to think of anything but the fun of
it : and she liked the fun, too. It was a great joke to
make a fool of everybody, and carry on behind their
backs ; but, when it comes to be serious, you can't go on
like that."

" I don't think you can go on like that at any time," Lewis
said, gravely.
Philip laughed.

" That is just your stiff, foreign way," he said ; " you,
are always thinking harm — and there was no harm. Well,
then, my mother insisted I was to go away, and, as there
was a good opportunity to have a little yachting and see
something of the world, I just consented. Absence makes
a great difference, you know," he added, laughing again
somewhat nervously. " I saw what a,n ass I had been
making of myself. And then I heard from home that the
Murrays were here, and that I had better stay and make
myself agreeable. Now you know, there's a great deal to
be done in London that makes the time pass. So I just
stayed, and made myself agreeable — as far as I could, you
know —

" Indeed it is not for me to know how far that is," said
Lewis, with something between a jeer and a snarl : for it
was not in flesh and blood to remain passive. " You are a
dangerous fellow, no doubt, when you please."

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 253

" Oh, I don't know about that," said simple Philip ;
" it was a bore at first, but I couldn't help feeling that it
was far the best way to get out of the other, you know.
And that little Lilias has grown awfully pretty, don't you
think ? — whether it's the dress, or the way she's got of
carrying herself, or having seen a little more of the
world "

Lewis would have liked to knock him clown, but probably
could not have done so, for the young Scot was much bigger
and stronger than himself : and then, even if he could, he
had no pretext for so doing, for there was no intentional
disrespect in what Philip said.

" I never discuss ladies whom I respect — it is bad form,"
said Lewis, bringing forward a word which he had picked up
and generally found most effectual.

Philip reddened and grew serious all at once. He was
one of the class who hold that vague but stinging accusation
in special awe.

" It would be worse form, I think, to discuss ladies whom

£m do not respect, ' ' he said^ very pertinently, but changing
s tone. " Well," he said, " to please you, I will say
nothing about that. I thought it a bore at first, but by-
and-by it was different. And it is just the only way of
coming out of the other business safe and sound ; and it
would be a fine thing for the property ; and, to sum up all,
the girl herself "

Lewis raised his hand, for he felt that he could not bear
much more.

" You mean that you fell in love, I suppose, since that
is the English phrase," he said, with a slight inflection
of contempt, which the ear of Philip was not keen enough
to seize.

" Well, you may call it that, if you like," he said. " And
I thought we were getting on very well — they all bully
me, as if I were a small boy, and she too, but that's one
way of showing that they consider me one of the family,
you know. So I thought we were getting on as well as
possible, and I wrote home word to my mother, and we
were to travel together, which would have given us just
the opportunity to settle everything before we got home :
and that was what I wanted above all "

Here poor Philip's face grew long once more, and the

254 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

sense of the ludicrous which had been growing in the mind
of his hearer— a sort of forlorn amusement to think of this
little commonplace thread running smoothly through the
tangled web of affairs — rose above the irritation and dis-
dain, which were too serious for the occasion.

" Perhaps," he said, gravely, " it was the elder sisters.
They might be afraid of you."

Philip turned upon him with a beaming face and gave
him a blow of approval on his shoulder.

"Now that just shows," he said, "that you have an
eye in your head. I always knew you were a clever fellow —
it is just that. Margaret cannot abide me — my mother
herself sees it. She has just held me at arm's length since
ever I was that height ; but, if Lilias takes to me, I will
just snap my fingers at Margaret," cried the long-leggit lad,
plucking up his courage.

Finally he made up his mind to follow them by the
evening train, and pick them up at Stirling or Perth,
where they would be sure, he thought, to stay for the night.
And Lewis went home to his rooms, where also packing
was going on, with a sense of exhaustion, through which
faint sensations of amusement penetrated. He was sad
as death, but, at the same time, he was worn out by a great
mental conflict. At such a moment pain is deadened by
its own excess. He was like a man newly out of a fever,
not able to feel at all save in a muffled and ineffectual
way : and it almost amused him to see Philip's self-
complacency and confidence in " getting on very well."
For such a rival he was not afraid.

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE ladies were very tired when they got home. It is a
long journey from London to the north. They were late
next morning, and still languid with the fatigue, and with
the curious sense of having dropped out of another sphere
which came after their strange London experiences. To
come into the old house, and see everything unchanged,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 255

was very wonderful. It made the past look like a dream.
To Lilias, above all, for whom life had sustained an entire
revolution, there was something extraordinary, weird, and
uncanny about the old existence, which seemed to wait for
her here like a distinct and separate thing, receiving her
once more into its bosom, going on with her as if the other
had never been. As she lingered with Jean over the late
breakfast from which Margaret had risen an hour before,
she looked round upon the wainscot, with all those gleams
of reflection in it which she remembered all her life, and
the old pictures, and the furniture all in its place, with
a sort of dismay.

" Do you think we have ever been away ? " she said,
with a scared look in her eyes. She was afraid of the still-
ness, which seemed to close over her, making all the colour
and commotion of the past season and all the new thoughts
with which it had filled her mind die away like things
that had never been.

" That is just the feeling every time you make a change,"-
said Jean, " for life is a very strange thing. I've sometimes
thought it was never more than half-real at the best of
times : and whiles you would like to put forth your hand
and grip to feel if it is true."

" This was beyond the experience of little Lilias ; but
there was a sensation of suspense and uncertainty in her
mind which made her old sister's contemplative thoughts
very congenial to her. Dear Jean ! with all her pretty
old-fashioned ways, the tranquillity of her gentle soul.
She was in her element at Murkley, not in London. Lilias
knew that the old table-cover, with all its silken flowers
half done, would come out in another half-hour, and the
basket of silks be set forth upon the little table : and
that Jean, with her fine head relieved against the window,
would look as if she had never moved from that spot.
She laughed at the thought, which was sweet, comical,
pleasant. For her own part she would sit down with
a book in the other window and look back, and behold the
performances of that other Lilias who had the world at
her feet, and wonder — wonder and dream what was going
to come of it all ! as if in her heart she did not know very
well what was going to come.

But, as they were preparing to go to the drawing-room

256 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

to carry out this performance, a voice reached their ears
from the hall with a somewhat excited, anxious tone
in it.

" I could not have been more surprised if they had told
me the Queen had come : for I expected you all to-morrow.
And what have you done with my Philip ? " Mrs. Stormont
said. She came into the dining-room, followed by Mar-
garet, and came forward to the table, holding out her hands
with an air of joyous welcome under which there was a
certain restlessness of anxiety. " Oh, fie ! this is your
London hours, still at breakfast when other people are
thinking of their luncheon. But we must forgive you this
time on account of your journey ; and what have you done
with my Philip ? " she said again.

" Bless me ! " said Margaret, " to think I should have
been so far left to myself as to forget all about that. It
is true Philip was to have travelled with us to-morrow ;
but circumstances made it more convenient for me to come
away sooner, and I never let him know. But I dare to
say," she added, " that he will not be ill-pleased ; for to
attend upon three women and their boxes is a trial for
any man."

Mrs. Stormont shot a keen look at the speaker over the
shoulder of Lilias, whom she was j List then embracing with
great fervour,

" And what did you make of my Philip ? " said Mrs.
Stormont. " That is a crow I have to pick with you,
Lilias ; for he would have been home long ago, but for
somebody that kept him hanging-on in town. ' I have
put off for another day ; for I'm going to a ball at Lady

So-and-so's, where the Miss Hurrays will be ' And

then, ' I've put off a week ; for I'm going to travel with the
Murrays,' That is what his letters have been, poor fellow
—and then to be left in the lurch at the end." Ye little
fairy ! If your head's not turned, I am afraid you
have turned other people's heads," said Philip's mother,
with a laughing flattery, which concealed much graver
feelings.

Lilias was somewhat alarmed by this personal attack.
She looked at her sisters for help, and it was Jean who
came first into the breach.

" You need not be in any way uneasy about that ; for

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 257

Philip has plenty of friends,'-'- said Miss Jean. " We met
him no doubt from time to time, and he was extremely
kind in coming to see us ; but he had always a number of
friends — he was not depending upon us. I assure you
it could not make that difference to him," she said,
anxiously.

Mrs. Stormont confronted her with a superior smile.

" My dear Jean," she said, " do you think I was supposing
my son had no friends, or was just depending upon his
country neighbours for a little society ? No, no, I am
not such an ignoramus as that, though I have myself been
little in London, and never was at the expense of a season :
but I am not just so ignorant as that. There are other
reasons that influence a young man, and one that has had
every encouragement "

" Encouragement ! " Margaret said, whose eyes were
full of the light of battle.

" Encouragement ! " said Miss Jean, deprecating. " We
were just kind, as was natural."

The mother returned the look of defiance, and took no
notice of Jean.

" Indeed, my dear Margaret," she said, " I was not
addressing myself to you. It is well known in the country-
side what your ambition is, and that nothing less than a
duke or a prince would please you, if you had any chance
of getting them. I am speaking to Lilias, not to you, and
I am not a person to stand by and see a young thing's
heart crushed, especially one that might, had matters
taken another turn, have been my own. Yes, my bonnie
pet, it is you that I am speaking to ; and you know you
have given my boy a great deal of encouragement. You
will not be persuaded by thoughts of a grand match, or
by worldly inducements, or by the fear of man — or woman
either — to turn against one "

Here she stopped, perhaps with a sense of the rashness of
this appeal. She was very tremulous and anxious, and as
she looked round upon the three sisters, who had all been
instrumental, as she thought, in disappointing her and
scorning her son and leaving him behind, it was all the
mother could do to restrain the flood of bitter words that
came pouring to her lips. She stopped, however, hastily,
and with a little agitated laugh.

258 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" Old friends or new friends, I would not advise her to
be dependent either upon one or the other," said Margaret.
" It's best to stand on your own ground. Lilias, will you
go and tell Simon about getting out the carriage, and bid
him ask if we can have the horses, for there are some visits
that we ought to pay. You will forgive me," she said,
when the girl left the room, " for sending her away : for we
must respect her simplicity at her age. She is thinking
nothing, neither of British lads nor of any other. I am
not one that likes to put such things in a girl's head."
Mrs. Stormont blushed with anger and annoyance.
"It is the first time," she said, " that I have been
blamed with putting things that should not be there into
a girl's head. But we all know about maidens' bairns —
and since Lilias is to be the immaculate one that never
thinks upon a lover — But, if that was your meaning, I
wonder you ever took her to London, which is just
the grand ' marriage market, if what everybody says is
true."

" It was no marriage market, you may be sure," cried

Margaret, growing red in her turn, " for any child of mine."

" Well, that is proved, no doubt," said the other, with

the composure of successful malice, " since Lilias ye took

her away, and Lilias ye have brought her back."

" Oh, what is the use," cried Miss Jean, breaking in
anxiously, " of the like of us old friends casting out with
each other about nothing ? If Lilias were to be married,
it would be a terrible day for Margaret and me."

" Oh, nobody will doubt that," cried Philip's mother.
" After being mistress and more at Murkley, and keeping
that little thing that she dare not say her soul's her own,

it would be a terrible down- coming for Margaret "

" Mrs. Stormont ! " Jean exclaimed, in terror and
dismay.

As for Margaret, who had been moving about setting
various things in order, she came back at this to where
the visitor was sitting, pale and red by turns, in great
nervous excitement. Margaret was very composed, and
smiled, though she was pale.

" I can make every allowance," she said, " for a dis-
appointed mother."

She had the best of it, after all. She was able to regard

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 259

with perfect calmness the heat and passion of the other,
whose long-leggit lad had come so little speed.

" I am not the one to call disappointed, " said Mrs. Stor-
mont. " I am not a woman with ambitions, like you. It
is not me that has made a great campaign, and nothing to
show for it. But I would warn you just to mind what you
are about, for to play fast and loose with a high-spirited
lad— «

" Bless me ! " said Margaret, in a tone which Jean herself
could not but allow to be very irritating, " who may that
be ? There were two or three, I will allow, but they got
their answer. Though I say it that should not say it,
having brought her up myself, Lilias is very clear in her
notions ; she will never say no when she means yes, of
that we may be sure."

" Well," cried Mrs. Stormont, rising hurriedly, " I can
only hope you'll find things, answer to your anticipations.
It would be a terrible thing to go through the wood and
through the wood, and take up with a crooked stick at
the end. And to keep up the farce," cried Mrs. Stormont,
" you'll keep one or two just hanging on, and give them
every encouragement. But just; see if she does not turn
upon you one of these days, and choose for herself."

She hurried out, sending this shot after her from the
door, and leaving, it cannot be disputed, a great deal of the
smoke and confusion of a cannonade behind her. Even
Margaret was confused, disturbed by that sudden perception
of how her proceedings might appear in the eyes of others,
which is so disenchanting. It is not a happy, though it
may be an improving process, to see ourselves as others
see us. Though she was so angry — she looked at her sister
with a little dismay.

"The woman is daft," she said. "Who was it that
encouraged that long-leggit lad of hers ? Never me, I'll
answer for that. I hope it was not you, 'Jean, that out of
superabundant charity

" He came here more than you liked in the afternoons,
Margaret, last year."

" And what of that ? " cried the mistress of Murkley.
" If it had been Donald Birnie, could I have turned him
away from the door ? "

" Donald Birnie knows his place," said Miss Jean,

260 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

doubtfully ; " but Philip is just very suitable ; and his
mother might think : ,

" I cannot tell what you mean with your very suitable.
Would you like our Lilias to take up with the first long-
leggit lad that comes to hand^? I thought we were agreed
upon that point, you and me."

" Oh, Margaret, I am saying nothing else ! I was only

thinking that it would not be so strange if his mother

And then there was always that little Katie here."

" Now that is what / would call very suitable," said
Margaret, regaining her composure. This recollection
freed her at once from a little fear that was beginning to
creep upon her. " Katie ! that would just be the best
thing in the world for him ; for the. Setons are very well
connected ; and it would settle Philip Stormont, and
make him steady, and be company to his mother. There
could be nothing better," Margaret said.

But, unfortunately, this was not how the matter pre-
sented itself to those who were more immediately
concerned.

CHAPTER XL

" AND was it all very grand, Lilias ? and did the ladies
wear their diamonds every day ? and did you see the
Queen ? and what did she say to you ? I've come to hear
everything — everything ! " cried Katie. She had taken
oif her hat and established herself in that corner of the book-
room where, so many talks had taken place, where Lilias
had painted all the anticipatory scenes of grandeur which
she intended to go through, and where she had listened
to Katie's plans, and not refused her aid. It was a year
since they had met, and Lilias, seated there, with a little
mist of suspense about her, waiting for the next chapter in
her life, had an air of dreamy development and maturity
which made a great impression upon her friend. In other
days Katie, though the ^youngest, had been the one that
knew most of the world.' She had been full of dances, of
partners, of what this one and that had said, while Lilias

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 261

had still no souvenirs. But all this had changed. It was
Lilias now who knew the world. She had gone away, she
had been in the secrets of society. She knew how duchesses
looked, and what they put on. She had seen princes
walking familiarly about as if they were but men. Was it
this lofty experience which gave her that soft air as of a
dream enveloping her, as if, to put it in Katie's way, she
was thinking of something else, listening for somebody
coming. Katie did not understand the change ; but she
saw it now, and it overawed her. Her eyes sought those
of Lilias wistfully. There were other questions more
important which she had to ask ; but, to begin with, the
general ones seemed necessary. She kept in her personal
anxieties with an effort. For Katie had many personal
anxieties too, and was rather woebegone and pale, not
like the sprightly little girl of old.

" It was not nearly so grand as I thought — nothing is
ever so grand as you think," said Lilias. " London town
is just big — big — not grand at all, and men just look like
men, and women like women. They are silly just like
ourselves. It is not another world, as I once thought. It
is quite the same. It was an awful disappointment,"
said Lilias, with a Scottish force of adjective which had not
come to be slang in those days ; " but it was just nice
enough all the same," she added, condescendingly, after a
momentary pause. " I thought I would just look at it
all, and admire it ; but you could not do that, you had
just to take your part, as if you had been at home."

" Oh, I should not have cared to look at it," said Katie.
" I would have liked to have my share."

" Except at the Countess's," said Lilias, with an in-
voluntary laugh. " We stood there, and looked on.
Lady Ida came and talked to us, and the Countess herself.
And then we stood and stared at all the people. It makes
me laugh now, but then it was like to make me cry. We
were only country neighbours there."

" And what were you in the other houses ? " Katie
asked.

" I don't know. It was different — ' Lilias paused a
little, musing, with eyes full of a smile of recollection ; then
she said, suddenly, glad to have an outlet, " Guess whom
we met in London — a gentleman — one that you know.

9t

262 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

And he knew everybody— and " Lilias made another

pause of grateful thought, then added, softly, " he was a
great man there."

Katie clasped her hands together. To her Philip Stor-
mont was a great man anywhere. Her little countenance
flushed, then grew pale, and it could be seen how thin her
cheeks had grown, and her eyes big and eager, as the
colour melted out of her face. She did not say anything,
but looked at Lilias with a wide-eyed, deeply meaning,
reproachful look. Her poor little bosom heaved with
a painful, long-drawn breath. Oh, how can you speak
to me of him, her eyes seemed to say ; and yet how anxious
she was to hear !

" Can't you guess ? " said Lilias, with a smile of content.

" I suppose — it could be but one person. But oh,
Lilias, everything is so changed, so changed ! " cried poor
little Katie ; and those caves, once soft circles in which
her pretty eyes were set, seemed to contract, and fill
with deep lakes of tears. She kept them back with a
great effort, and produced a little pitiful smile, the best
she could muster. " I am sure it isn't your fault," she
said, magnanimously. " Tell me — all about it, Lilias."

" All about what ? " Lilias paused too, to look at her
in amazement, and a sort of cold breath came into her
heart, chilling her in spite of herself. " I did not know,"
she said, with sudden spirit, waking out of her dream, " that
Mr. Murray was of any consequence, Katie, to you."

Katie's countenance changed again in a moment from
misery to gladness.

" Oh, Mr. Murray ! " she cried. In the relief of the
moment, the tears came dropping down her cheeks like
rain, and she laughed in the sudden ease of her mind.
" No, no consequence, no consequence at all," she cried.
*' I thought — I thought it must be "

The eyes of the girls met, the one inquiring, almost with a
gleam of contempt ; the other shyly drawing back, denying
the answer.

" I see," said Lilias, nodding her head. " No, I had

not forgotten. I knew very well But, dear Katie,"

she cried, with the unrestrained laugh of youth, " you could
not think Philip— for it was Philip you thought of— could
be a great man in London. Philip ! " The idea brought

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 263

with it a peal of laughter. " He may be very nice at
home, but among all the fashionable folk there ! "

Katie did not laugh with her friend ; on the contrary,
she grew red and angry. Her tears dried, high indignation
lighted up her face, but along with it a little consolation
too.

" They say," said Katie, " that you were not always of
that mind, Lilias, and that he was with you — oh, every
day. They say he went with you to all the parties, and

danced with you every dance. They say I would like

you to tell me true," cried the little girl. " Oh, you need
not think I will break my heart ! Whatever has happened,
if you think / will make a work about it, and a fuss, and
all that, you are just mistaken, Lilias ! I hope I have more
pride than that. If he likes you better than me, he is
welcome, oh, he is welcome ! And if you that were my own
friend, that was like a sister — that was "

Poor little Katie was choked with tears and excitement.
She could not say any more. Her voice failed her alto-
gether, everything swam and wavered in her eyes. Her
own familiar friend had deceived her, her love had for-
saken her. The bitterness of abandonment was in her
heart. She had struggled hard to show what her mother
called " a proper pride " and though it had hollowed out
the sockets of her eyes, and taken the colour from her
cheeks, she thought she had succeeded. But to hear
Lilias, who had stolen him away, speak disdainfully of
Philip, to hear him scoffed at, whom Katie thought the
first and most desirable of human beings ; it is impossible
to say how hard this was. All the faculties of her soul

rose up against it : and yet — and yet She would

not have let herself go, and suspend her proper pride so
entirely, if there had not been beyond, as it were the sense
of her despair, a rising gleam of hope.

" Who said that ? " cried Lilias, in great astonishment
and dismay. And then she drew Katie's unwilling form
towards her. " Do you think so much about Philip still ?
Oh, Katie, he is not half good enough for you."

Katie flung herself out of her friend's grasp.

" I can put up with your treachery," she cried. " Oh !
I can stand that ; but to hear you insult Philip is what I will
not, I will not bear ! "

264 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

Upon which Lilias sprang to her feet also.
" I will say just what I please of Philip," she cried ;
" and who is to stop me ? What am I caring about Philip ?
I just endured him because of you. He neither went with
me to parties, nor danced with me, nor was with us every
day. He is just a long-leggit lad, as Margaret says. If he
was rich or great, or if he was clever and wise, or even if

he was just kind — kind and true like some But he is

none of these, none of these, Katie, not half good enough
for you ; and me, what is Philip to me ? " Lilias cried,
with a grand disdain.

" Perhaps he has forsaken you — too," said Katie, looking
at her with mingled wrath and relief and indignation. She
was very wroth and wounded for Philip, but her heart,
which had been so sore, felt cooled and eased as by the
dropping of some heavenly dew. Her anger with Lilias
was boundless. She could not refrain from that little
blow at her, and yet she could have embraced her for every
careless word she said.

Lilias looked at her for a moment, uncertain whether to be
angry too. But then the absurdity of the idea that Philip
might have forsaken her, suddenly seized her. She
laughed out with a gaiety that could not be mistaken, and
took her seat again.

" When you are done questioning me about Philip —
she said. " I would not have remembered Philip but for
you. We forgot he was to have come home with us, and
never let him know ; and nobody remembered, not even
Jean. But we have heard enough of Philip since we came
home. His mother has been here, demanding, ' What have
you done with my Philip ? ' :' Lilias here fell into Mrs.
Stormont's tone, and Katie, though still in tears, had hard
ado not to laugh. " Just demanding him from Margaret
and from me : and you next, Katie. As if we were Philip's
keepers ! He is big enough, I hope, to take care of himself."
Here Katie came stealing up to her friend, winding a
timid arm about her neck.

" Oh ! Lilias, was it all stories ? and are you true, are
you true ? "

" Is that what has made you just a little ghost ? And
why did you never write and tell me, when I could have
put it all right with a word ? "

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 265

" Oh, what could I say ? " -cried Katie. " A girl must
have a proper pride. Would I let you see and let him
see that I was minding ! Oh ! no, no ! and his mother
every time we met her, and every time mamma met her,
always, always on about Philip and you. She told us all
the places he went with you — every place, even to the
Queen's Court : and there was his name in the Times —
for she got it on purpose, and sent it over the water to
papa : and she said he always contrived to get an invitation
wherever you went."

Lilias smiled with high disdain.

" Many people would have liked to do that," she said,
" for we went to the grandest houses, where Philip Stormont,
or even the Murrays of Murkley, who are very different,
would never set a foot. Oh ! it was no credit of ours —
we just had — a friend "

" A friend ! And that was the gentleman you meant, not
him ; and it was a person I knew ? I cannot guess it, for
I. don't know any person who could be a friend to you. But
just it was not — him ? That is so wonderful, I cannot
think of anything else ; for all this time I have been
thinking and thinking, and trying not to think, and then
just thinking the more."

Lilias smiled upon her, a gracious, but half-disdainful,
half-disappointed smile. Katie could think of nothing but
this. She had no sympathy, no interest, in what had
happened to her friend. It hurt Lilias a little : for there
was no one else whom she could speak to of that other
who was so much more important than Philip. She was
wounded a little, and retired into herself in lofty, but
gentle superiority. She could - have told things that
would have made her little companion admire and wonder.
But what did Katie care except about Philip, a country
youth who was nobody, a rustic gentleman that gaped
and was helpless in the brilliant world ? Lilias felt a great
superiority, but yet a little check and disappointment too.
It seemed to her that her little companion had fallen far
behind her in the march of life, that Katie was only a
child, crying, sobbing, unable to think of anything but
one thing — and a little nobody, too. She herself had
gone a long way. beyond her little rural companion, which
was quite just — for was not Lilias a whole year older,

266 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

besides her season in town ?• So she allowed herself to be
tolerant and indulgent. Was it not natural ? So young
and little, and only one thing in her head — Philip, and no
more. Lilias put "away her own interrupted history with
a proud self-denial. She would not betray it to any one
who was not worthy of that confidence", although her
heart ached a little with the solitude of it and the need
of speech. But surely it was but for a day or two that it
could be allowed to continue, this solitude of the heart ?
She went out in the afternoon with Katie for a walk, and
went to New Murkley with many a thought. But New
Murkley was overflowing to Katie with images of Philip,
and Lilias moved along abstracted, always with a little
sense of disdainful wonder and toleration for one who could
think of nothing but Philip, though on the verge, had
she chosen, of far greater things.

When she. returned to her sisters afterwards, she found
these ladies in a state of great perturbation, and distress.
Jean was sitting, with her bonnet still on, too much agi-
tated to think of her work. Margaret was walking up
and down the drawing-room, also in her outdoor dress, and
carrying on an indignant monologue. The entrance of
Lilias discomposed them both. They had not expected her,
and, as Margaret did not perceive her at first, Jean gave
a little exclamation of warning.

" Margaret, it is Lilias ! " she cried.

And Margaret, in her walk up and down, turned round
and faced her, with a look of annoyance which it was im-
possible to conceal. She was heated and angry, and the
interruption aggravated her discontent. She said :

" Well, what about Lilias ? It's all Lilias so far as I
can see, and we seem just fated to have no more peace in
our lives."

" Is it I that am taking away your peace, Margaret ? "
Lilias said. She had come in with a kind of lofty sadness
and longing, her heart full, and no relief to it possible ; her

life waiting, as it seemed, for a touch from without a

something which could not come of her own initiative. It
was not enough to trouble her as with a sense of dependence,
but only to make her sensible of an incompleteness, an
impotence, which yet was sweet.

" There are several persons, it appears, from whom ve

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 267

have taken away the peace," said Margaret. " The
countryside is just ringing with it from all I hear. When
was it that you gave so much encouragement to that
long-leggit fellow, Philip Stormont ? I have heard of
little else all the time I have been out, and Jean will tell
you the same thing. They say he went to every place
with us in London (I told you not to take him to the
theatre, Jean), and that it's all settled between him and
you."

" Margaret, I would not speak like that to Lilias that
knows nothing about such things."

" Just hold your peace, Jean ; if she does not know
about them, she'll have to learn. When a man wants her
to marry him, she'll have to hear about it, and make her
own decision." Margaret's conscience, perhaps, up-
braided her at this moment, for she made a perceptible
pause, then resumed, with increased impatience : "It
may be true, for anything we call tell. You gave him
great encouragement, they say, before we went from here —
was that true ? for I've many a thing to think of, and I
cannot call all these bits of nothings to mind."

" Oh, Margaret, how can ye upbraid our Lilias, that
is as innocent as an infant ? Encouragement, as they
call it, was what she never gave any lad. Encourage-
ment, say they ? — that just means a forward person that
knows what a gentleman is meaning, and helps him on.
Lilias, my dear," said Jean, " you'll just run away. Even
to hear the like of that is not for you."

"Is it Philip Stormont again ?"" cried Lilias. " I think
you are very unkind, Margaret ; you ought to take my
part, instead of scolding me. What am I caring about
Philip Stormont ? I wish he was — no, I don't wish him
any harm — I don't care enough about him," cried the girl
angrily. " What is it now ? "

" She knows there is something, Jean."

" And how could she help knowing. Margaret, when his
mother was at her this morning with that very word in her
mouth ? Encouragement ! — it's just his mother's doing,
everything about it ; he would never raise that cry himself."

" Himself ! — he has not enough in him," said Margaret.
" But, Lilias, whatever you have done, you will have to
bear the blame, and it must just be' a "lesson to us all.

268 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

In the first place, they were all for congratulating us,
every person we met. Bonnie congratulations ! I think
the world is out of its wits. To wish us joy of wedding
the heiress of Murkley upon a bonnet-laird like Philip
Stormont ! The old Hurrays would just turn in their
graves, but all this senseless" can ailye wishes us joy."

" Oh, whisht, Margaret ! the people just meant very
well ; no doubt they had many a private thought in their
mind, but they would think it was well to put the best
face upon it."

" And, when they saw we knew nothing of it, wha.t does
the minister's wife do but reads me a lecture on the sin
of crossing young folk in their affections ! I am the kind
of person, you will say, to be lectured by Mrs. Seton and
Mrs. Stormont, and all the rest," said Margaret, with a
laugh of scorn ; but it was not indifferent to her. There
was a slight nervous tremor about her person, which betrayed
a vexation almost more serious than her words conveyed.
" I am not finding fault with you, Lilias. I well believe you
meant no harm, and never thought you could be mis-
conceived ; but I would mind upon this in the future if I
were you. Meet with nobody and walk with nobody but
those that belong to you, or that are like yourself. If you
do that, you will give no handle to any ill-disposed person.
My dear, I am not finding fault."

" It sounds worse than finding fault," said Lilias. " It

sounds as if you thought I had been Oh ! " she cried,

with a little stamp of her foot, " unwomanly ! — you will
not say the wrord, but I know that is what you mean. And
it is not so — it never was so. It was not for me, it was
for—

Here Lilias stopped in her impetuous self-defence,
stopped, and blushed crimson, and said, more impetuously
still, but with a tone of humility and self-reproach :

" I am just a traitor ! It is true — I am a false friend."

" That was what I said, Margaret," cried Jean, " you
will mind what I said."

Of this Margaret took no notice, neither of the interrupted
speech of Lilias, but continued to pace about the room with
a clouded brow. She asked no further explanations ; but
she had many thoughts to oppress her mind. The Countess
had been one of those who had wished her joy. That great

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 269

lady had stopped her carriage, in which Lady Ida sat
smiling, and, with a certain air of triumph, had offered
her congratulations.

" I always thought there was something between them,"
she had said, " and two such charming young people, and
in every way so suitable "

" Your ladyship seems to forget," Margaret had said,
trembling with wrath, " that the Murrays of Murkley have
been in the county before any other name that's worth
counting was heard of, and were never evened with the
small gentry, so far as I know, till this cjay."

" Oh ! my dear Miss Murray, that is quite an antediluvian
view to take," the Countess had said, and had driven off
in great glee, accepting none of the angry sister's denials.
There was something underneath that made this very
galling to Margaret. Young Lord Bellendean had been
one of those that had been at the feet of Lilias, and this
was the reason of his mother's triumph. It had its effect
upon Margaret, too, in a way which was not very nattering
to young Bellendean. She had not been insensible to the
pleasure of seeing the best match in the countryside refused
by her little sister. Lord Bellendean, too, was one of the
class which she described as long-leggit lads ; but a peerage
and great estates make a difference. Lilias had never
shown any inclination towards their noble young neigh-
bour ; but the refusal of him would have been gratifying.
And now his mother, with this story of Philip, would turn
Bellendean effectually away. This was the chief sting of
the discovery she had made. But even to Jean she had
not betrayed herself. She was aware that perhaps it was
not a very elevated hope, and that her mortification would
have but little sympathy had the cause of it been revealed.
This was in the foreground of her mind, and held the chief
place among her disturbed thoughts. But it was not all.
She could not natter herself she had got rid of Lewis Murray
by turning her back upon him. Thus she stood as in the
midst of a circle of masked batteries. She did not know
from which side the next broadside would come. It was
indispensable for her to be prepared on every hand,

270 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

CHAPTER XL1

PHILIP STORMONT did not return home for a week, during
which period Lilias had ample reason to share her sister's
annoyance. She was received wherever she appeared with
congratulations and good wishes, though it was a very
daft-like thing, the village people thought, for young folk,
who had known each other all their lives and might have
spoken whenever they pleased, to go away up to London,
and meet in strange houses there before they could come
to an understanding.

"No true! hoot, Miss Lilias! It must be true, for I
had it from the leddy hersel." was the reception her denial
got : and there was not unfrequently a glance aside at
Katie, which showed the consciousness of the speaker of
another claim. It was a curious study in human nature
for the neighbourhood, and, though it was perhaps cruel, the
interest of the race in mental phenomena generally may
have accounted for the pleasure mingled with compassion
with which one after another offered in Katie's presence
their good wishes to Lilias, keenly observing meantime
the air and aspect of the maiden forsaken.

" It'll no have been true about Miss Katie and him,
after all," Janet, at the " Murkley Arms," announced to
her husband, " for she took it just "as steady as a judge."

" Oh, ay, it was true enough ; but men are scarce, and
he's just ta'en his pick," said Adam.

" My word, but he's no blate," said Janet, in high in-
dignation. " Two of the bonniest and best in a' the country-
side for Philip Stormont to take his pick o' ! I would soon
learn him another lesson. And it's just a' lees — a' lees
from beginning to end."

" In that case," said Adam, with philosophic calm,
"I. would* not fash my thoom about it, if I were you."
But the philosoph}' was more than Janet was capable of.
She bade him gang aff to his fishing for a cauld-hearted loon,
that took nae interest in his fellow-creatures.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 271

" It's naething to you if a young thing breaks her bit
heart," Janet said ; and she added, with a sigh, " No to
say that I had ither views for Miss Lilias mysel."

Perhaps it was some glimmer of these " ither views,'-'-
some implication of another name, never mentioned, but
understood between them by a subtle feminine free-
masonry, which made Lilias insist so warmly to Janet upon
the falsehood of the common report. The girls went on
to the manse after this explanation, Lilias walking with
great dignity, but with a flush of offence and annoyance
on her face.

" I wish he would just come back, and let them see it is
all lies," Lilias cried.

Katie dried a furtive tear when they got within the
shelter of the manse garden. Would Philip, when he came,
show that it was all lies ? or was he minded, like his mother,
to make it true ? And, if he put forth those persuasive
powers which Katie felt so deeply, could Lilias resist him ?
These questions kept circling through Katie's brain in
endless succession. " It would maybe be better if he
never came back," she said, with a sigh.

Mrs. Seton was in all the bustle of her morning's occu-
pations. She came into the drawing-room a little heated,
and with some suppressed excitement in her eyes. Katie's
mother was not entirely in Katie's confidence, but she
knew enough of her child's mind to take an agitated and
somewhat angry interest in the news of Lilias' supposed
engagement. Perhaps indeed she was not without a
guilty sense of intention in her former hospitality to Philip,
which turned now, by a very common alchymy of the
mind, into an angry feeling that she had been kind to him,
and that he had been very ungrateful. She came in with
a little bustle, unable to chase from her countenance some
traces of offence.

" Well, Lilias, so you have come to be congratulated,"
she said. " I am sure I wish you every prosperity.
Nobody will doubt that we wish you well, such great friends
as you have always been with Katie, and all the old connec-
tion between us and Murkley." Here she kissed the girl
on both cheeks sharply, conveying a little anger even in the
kiss. " But I think, you know, you were a little wanting
— oh ! just a little wanting, I'll not say much — considering

272 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

all the intimacy, not to write at once, and let Katie

know "

" I would like to hear what there was to let Katie
know," cried Lilias, with indignation. " And why you
should wish me prosperity ? You never did it before.
I am just as I always was before ; and as for Philip Stor-
mont," cried the girl, "he is nothing to me. Oh, yes,
he is something — he is a great trouble and bother, and
makes Margaret angry, and everybody talk nonsense.
I wish he was at the other end of the world ! " Lilias cried,
with a little stamp of her impatient foot upon the floor.

" Dear me ! "said Mrs. Seton, " but this is very different
from what we heard. No, no, it must be just a little
temper, Lilias, and Margaret's scolding that makes you
turn it off like this. I can well understand Margaret
being angry," said the minister's wife, with a gleam of
satisfaction. " Her that thought nobody too grand for
you ; but there is no calculating upon young folk. Here
is Lilias, Robert ; but she is just in an ill way. She will
have none of my good wishes. She has quarrelled with him,
I suppose. We all know what a lovers' quarrel is. Yes,
yes, she'll soon come to herself. And it would be a terrible
thing, you know, to tell a nb to your clergyman/' Mrs.
Seton said, with an attempt at raillery ; but she was
anxious in spite of herself.

"Miss Lilias," said the minister, who had corne in, and
who was more formal, " will have little doubt of our good
wishes in all circumstances, and especially on a

" Oh, will you hold all your tongues ! " cried Lilias,
driven out of recollection of her good manners, and of the
respect she owed, as Mrs. Seton said, to her clergyman.
" There's no circumstances at all, and nothing happy,
nor to wish me joy about. 1 am no more engaged than
you are," she said, addressing Mr. Seton, who stood, inter-
rupted in his little speech, in a sort of consternation.
" I am not going to be married. It is all just lies from
beginning to end."

" Oh, my dear, you must not say that. It is dreadful
to say that. It we are really to believe you, Lilias "

" You need not believe me unless you like. You seem
to think I don't know my own concerns. But it is all

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 273

lies, and nothing else," cried Lilias, with a glow of mo-
mentary fury. " Just lies from beginning to end."

" Dear, dear me ! " said Mrs. Seton. " My dear, we will
not press it too far. But perhaps you have refused poor
Philip, and he cannot make up his mind it has been final.
If you are so sure of it on your side, it will perhaps just
be a mistake on his."

" Oh, I wish I had refused him ! " cried Lilias, setting
her small teeth. " I wish he had asked me, and I would
have given him his answer. I would have said to him, I
would sooner marry Adam at the inn, I would sooner have
little Willie Seton out of the nursery. Oh, there would
have been no mistake ! "

" But, my dear Miss Lilias, why this warmth ? " said
the minister. " After all, if the young man wanted you
to marry him, it was a compliment, it was no offence.
He is a fine young fellow, when all is said ; and why so-
hot about it ? It is no offence."

"It is just a Here Lilias paused, receiving a

warning look from Katie, who had placed herself behind
backs, but now gave a little furtive pull to her friend's
dress.

" Margaret is very angry," she said, with dignity, " but
not so angry as I am to be away a whole year, and then,
when I am so glad to come home, to have this thrown in
my face ! It is not Philip's fault, it is just Mrs. Stormont,
who never would let me alone — and oh ! will you tell
everybody ? You may say out of politeness that it is
a mistake, but I say it is all lies, and that is true."

" Whisht, whisht, whisht, my dear ! " cried Mrs. Seton.
" If you are sure you are sincere — No, no ; me doubt-
ing ! I would never doubt your word, if you are sure you
are in earnest, Lilias. I will just tell everybody with
pleasure that some mistake has happened — just some
mistake. You were old friends, and never thought what
meaning was in his mind ; or it was his mother who put a
wrong interpretation. Yes, yes ; you may rely upon me,
Lilias : if you are sure, my dear, if you are quite sure that
you are sincere ! "

Lilias went home alone, in high excitement and anger
with all the world, holding her head high, and refusing to
pause to speak to the eager cottagers by their doors, who

274 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

had all a word to say. This mode of treatment was
unknown at Murkley, and produced many shakings of
the head, and fears that London had made her proud.
The wives reminded each other that they had never ap-
proved of it. " Why can they no bide at hame ? It was
never the custom in the auld days," the women said. But
Lilias made no response to their looks. She went through
the village with an aspect of disdain, carrying her head
high ; but, before she came to the gates of the old castle,
she became aware of Mrs. Stormont's pony-carriage leisurely
descending towards the river. With still stronger reason
she tossed her head aloft and hurried on. But she was not
permitted to escape so easily. Mrs. Stormont made her
preparations to alight as soon as the girl was visible, and
left her no possibility of escape. She thrust her hand
through the unwilling arm of Lilias with confidential
tenderness. .

" It was you I was looking for," she said. She had not
the triumphant look which had been so offensive on her
previous visit. Her brow was puckered with anxiety. .
" My bonnie Lily," she said, " you are angry, and I have
done more harm than good. What ails you at my poor
laddie, Lilias ? Who have we thought upon all this
time but only you ? When I took all the trouble of yon
ball, which was little pleasure to me at my time of life,
who was it for but you ? Do you think I was wanting
to please the Bairnsfaithers and the Dunlops, and all the
little gentry about, or even the Countess and Lady Ida ?
I was wanting to please you : and my Philip —

" He was wanting to please Katie Seton," said Lilias,
with an angry laugh ; " and he was quite right, for they
were fond, fond of each other."

" Oh, my bonnie pet, what a mistake ! " cried Mrs.
Stormont, growing red. " Katie Seton ! I would not
have listened to it for a moment ! The Setons would
never have been asked but just for civility. Philip to
put up with all that little thing's airs, and the vulgar
mother ! Oh ! my darling, do not you be deceived. What
said he in London ? Was theie ever a word of Katie?
You would not cast up to him a folly of his youth now that
he's a man, and all his heart is set on you ? "

" Even if it was so," cried Lilias, " my heart is not set

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 275

on him ; I do not like him — Oh ! yes, I like him well
enough. He is just a neighbour ; but, Mrs. Stormont,
nothing more."

" Lilias, Lilias, you don't know what you are doing !
Oh ! my dear, just think a little. He has never come home ;
he has taken it sore, sore to heart that you left town like
that, and never let him know. How do I know what
my boy is doing, left by himself, with a disappointed
heart, among all yon terrible temptations ? Oh, my lovely
Lily, whom I have petted and thought much of all
your life, one word from you would bring Philip home ! "

" I cannot send him a word," cried Lilias. " Oh, how
can you ask me, when, wherever I go, everybody is at
me wishing me joy ; and, though it is all lies, they make
me think shame, and I don't know how to look them in
the face ; but I am not ashamed — I am just furious ! "
Lilias cried, with burning blushes. " And then you ask
me to send him a word —

" To bring him home ! He is everything I have in the
world. Oh ! Lilias, you would not be the one to part a
mother from her only son ; you would not be so hard-
hearted as that, my Lily. If he has been wanting in
any way, if he has not been so bold in speaking out "

It was all that Lilias could do to contain herself.

" Do I want him to speak out ? " she cried. " I do
not want Philip at all, Mrs. Stormont. Will you believe
what I tell you ? If you want to get him home, let him
come back to Katie.""

" Put Katie out of your mind," said Mrs. Stormont,
sharply. " There is no question of Katie. It is just an
insult to me to speak to her at all."

Upon which Lilias threw her head higher still.

" And it is just an insult to me," she cried — -" oh, far,
far worse ! for I am little and young, and not able to say
a word, and you are trying to force me into what nobody
wants. And Margaret will scold me as if it were my
fault."

' ' You are able to say plenty for yourself, it appears
to me," said Mrs. Stormont ; and then she changed her
tone. " Oh, Lilias, I have always been fond, fond of you,
my bonnie dear. I have always said you should have
been my child ; and now, when tnere's a chance that you

276 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

may be mine — What ails ye at my Philip ? Where
will you find a finer lad ? Where will ye get a better
son, except just when he loses his judgment with dis-
appointment and love ? Oh, my bonnie Lily, he will
come back — he will come to his duty and his mother,
if you will only send him a word — just a word."

This conversation was interrupted in the strangest way
by the sudden apparition of a dog-cart driven at full
speed down the road, which Lilias had vaguely perceived
approaching with a little flutter of her heart, not knowing
at any minute who might appear out of the unseen.
When it drew up suddenly at the roadside for a single
moment the light wavered in her eyes. But she came
to herself again at once as Philip Stormont jumped out
and advanced to his mother, whose evident relief and
pleasure at the sight of him touched Lilias' heart. The
poor lady , trembled so that she could scarcely stand.
She could do nothing but gaze at her son. She forgot
in a moment the half-quarrel, the pathetic plea which she
was urging with Lilias. " Oh, my boy, you've come
back ! " she said, throwing herself upon him. Lilias was
far too young to fathom what was in the mother's heart,
but she was touched in spite of herself. The change in
Mrs. Stormont's face, the disappearance of all the curves
in her forehead, the melting of all the hard lines in her
face, was like magic to the watching girl. A little awe
seized her of the love that worked so profoundly, and
which she had made so little account of. It was true
love, though it was not the form of true love of which
one thinks at eighteen. She withdrew a little from them
in the first moment of their meeting with natural deli-
cacy, but did not go away, feeling it would be somewhat
cowardly to attempt to escape.

As for Philip, when he had greeted his mother, he
turned from her to Lilias with a countenance by no means
love-like.

" You played me a pretty trick," he said. " Lucky for
me that I went to Cadogan Place first. I might have
been at the station now kicking my heels."
' Not for a week, I hope."

" I might have been ^there all night : and thinking all
the time that something must have happened. I did not

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 277

take it kind," said Philip. His mother was holding his
arm, and already making little demonstrations upon it to
stop him in these ill-advised complaints ; but Philip paid
little attention. " I wonder how you would have liked
it yourself to be left in the lurch without a word ! "

" We were all very sorry," Lilias said, with* an air of
penitence, and then she added, " when we remembered,"
with an inclination to laugh, which was all the stronger
because of the gravity of the situation a few moments
past.

He was somewhat travel-worn, covered with dust, and
bearing marks of the fact that he had left London the
night before, and had not paused long upon the way.
His looks, as he regarded Lilias, were not those of a lover,
and as she said the last words he coloured high with not
unpardonable resentment.

" I can well believe that you took little pains to
remember me at all," he said.

" Oh ! Philip, how I have wearied for you," said his
mother, anxiously, making a diversion. " We were
speaking of you, Lilias and I ; and I was going to send
a message — — '

" You are always so impatient," cried Philip, " pursuing
a fellow with telegrams as if he were a thief ! Yes, I waited
a day or two. There was something I wanted to see.
You can see nothing while that confounded season is
going on. But I'm tired, mother, and by your leave I'll
get home at once."

" You'll excuse him, Lilias," cried Mrs. Stormont, once
more with anxiety ; " he'll pay his respects to you at a
more fitting moment. Yes, my dear boy, certainly we
will go home ; you can drive me back "

" I've got a dog- cart from Kilmorley," said Philip ;
" and a better beast than yours. I'll just go on in
that. I'll be there half an hour before you."

He took off his hat carelessly to Lilias, who was looking
after him almost with as much astonishment as his
mother. The two ladies looked at each other as he drove
away. Poor Mrs. Stormont, after her agitation and joy,
had grown white and troubled. She gazed at Lilias wist-
fully with deprecating eyes. The situation was ruefully
comic, but she did not see it. To have compromised the

278 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

name of Lilias for Philip's sake — to have compromised
Philip by pleading with Lilias : and then to have it proved
by both before her eyes how useless were her pains —
so broadly, so evidently that she could not pretend to dis-
believe it, was hard. She said, quickly, as if with an
attempt to convince herself, " He is wearied with his
journey ; he is dusty, and not fit for a lady's eye." But
after that the situation was too strong for her ; for a
moment there was humility in her tone. " My dear,
perhaps I have made a mistake ; I will do what I can to
put it right," she said. Then the inalienable instinct of
defence awoke again. "It is just that he is turned the
wrong way with all these slights and disappointments,
to be taken up one moment and cast away the next.
He'll have taken an ill notion against women. Men are
always keen to do that. It's their justification ; and
there is no .doubt," she continued more briskly, nerving
her courage, " whatever you may say now, that he got a
great deal of encouragement at one time, Lilias. And
now he's just turned the wrong way," Mrs. Stormont
ended with a sigh, slowly mounting into her pony- carriage.
Her old servant sat there motionless as he had sat through
all this conversation. " I hope you may never repent
your handiwork," she said.

CHAPTER XLII

THERE is something in the unchangeableness of rural
scenery, and in the unaltered method and order of a long
established and carefully governed household, which gives
the sensitive spirit, returning to them after great changes
have passed over itself, a sort of shock as of pitiless
permanence and a rigid machinery of existence which
must triumph over every mere vicissitude of happiness or
unhappiness.

After the little incidents of the first days, which after
all had had little to do with her own personal history,
the absolute unchangedness of Murkley, not a leaf
different, every branch drooping in the same line, the

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 279

same flowers in the garden, the same arrangement of the
flower-vases to which Jean was so glad to get back (for
she had never been able to arrange the London bouquets
to her own satisfaction in those terrible glass things in
Cadogan Place), conveyed to Lilias a sense of some occult
and secret power of passive authority in existence itself,
as separate from any individual will or wish, which
appalled her. London and all those wonderful scenes — •
the lights, the talks, the dances, the intoxication of flattery
and delight which had mounted to her head — were all
gone like a phantasmagoria. But life, which had been
waiting for her just as of old, which had been going on
just as of old, while she was flitting through that dream-
world, had now taken her in again steadily to its steady-
routine which admitted no thought of change. It
appalled her for the moment ; her feet came down,
with a power of gravitation over which her impulses seemed
to have little or no influence, into the self-same line,
upon the self-same path. She tried to laugh sometimes
at what everybody called the force of habit, but she was
frightened by it. She had acquired a great deal of, ex-
perience in those six weeks of the season ; her memory
was full of scenes which flashed upon the inward eye
whenever she was by herself, or even when she sat silent
in the old rooms where Jean and Margaret were so silent
too. And when some one called her, or something from
the outer world came in, Lilias felt a momentary giddiness,
an inability to arrange her thoughts or to be quite sure
where she was, or which was real, the actual world or
that other in which the moment before she had been. Her
head seemed to turn round when she was spoken to. To
feel herself surrounded by a smiling crowd in rooms all
splendid with decoration, flowers, and lights, and fine
pictures, with music and flattering voices in the air —
and then to look up and see Jean's head somewhat paler
than usual against the dark wainscot, and Miss Margaret's
voice saying, " If you will put on your hat, Lilias, we will
go out for our walk — Which was true ? She faltered
as she rose up, stumbling among the real. She was afraid
of it : it seemed to her to be a sort of ghost of existence
from which she could not escape.

And in other respects there was no small agitation in

280 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

the inner consciousness of Lilias. She had felt that there
was much in the air on that last evening which never
came to anything. The atmosphere of the place, in which
neither he nor she had cared to dance, had tingled with
something that had never been said. All those weeks,
when she had seen him so often, had produced their natural
effect upon the girl. She had never deceived herself,
like Margaret, as to the many houses that had suddenly
been thrown open to them. Lilias had not forgotten
how it had been at the Countess's reception. She remem-
bered the immediate alteration of everything as soon as
Lewis had appeared. She had not been allowed to speak
to him in the Row, but immediately after all the doors
had been thrown open as by magic. She knew very well
that this magic was in his hand. And how was it possible
for her to believe that it was 'merely " kindness," as she
at first thought ? It was kindness, but there was some-
thing more. She saw not only the tenderness, but the
generosity of his treatment of her with wonder, almost
with a little offence at the magnanimity which she found
it so difficult to understand. Lewis had brought to her
everybody that was best and most attractive. She had
looked again and again into eyes, bent upon her with
admiration, that might have been the eyes of the hero
of her dreams. Six- foot- two of fine humanity, in the
Guards, in the Diplomatic Service, or, better still, in no
service at all, endowed with the finest of English names
and possessing the bluest blood, had exhibited itself before
her in the best light again and again. We do not pretend
to assert, nor did Lilias believe, that these paladins were
all ready to lay their hearts and honours at her feet ;
but there was one at least who had done so, without even
moving her to more than a little tingle of gratified vanity
and friendly regret. But from all these tall heroes she
had turned to middle-sized Lewis, with his eyes and hair
of no particular colour. She had always been aware
when he was in the most crowded room. Everybody had
talked to her about him, believing her to be his relation.
They had all met him abroad ; they had all some grateful
recollection of his services when they were ill, or where
they were strangers ; they poured forth praises of him on
all sides, till Lilias felt her heart run over. Above even

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 281

the attractions of six-feet, had been the enthusiasm in her
mind for the good and true. She did not indeed want
this enthusiasm to turn her thoughts to that first friend,
as she had called him in her heart, the first companion
who had been of her own choice and discovery, and whose
absence had made to her a wonderful blank, of which she
felt the effect without fully realizing the cause. But
she realized the cause very well now : and felt the day
blank indeed in which he had no share.

Also she knew by instinct that something was to have
been said to her on that last evening. Was it merely
his disappointment at finding his favourite nook under
the palms in the conservatory already occupied, which
prevented it being said ? or was there some other cause ?
When they left London so abruptly, two days before the
appointed time, without seeing Lewis, Lilias had been
somewhat disturbed and wistful. She had wondered
at it, however, without being greatly cast down : there
was no fear, she thought, but that he would soon follow.
He would come after them to Murkley. What he had
to say would be more fitly said under the shadow of the
great house, about which he too, like herself, had dreamed
dreams : he could not stay away, she felt sure. And as
for Margaret's opposition, that did not appal the young
heroine greatly. All it meant was that Margaret wanted
a prince of the royal blood for her child, and not even he
unless he were handsome and gallant, a youth to please
a lady's eye. Lilias felt a little humorous sympathy with
Margaret : she felt that it would be hard for herself to

§'ve up the idea of a hero. Lewis was not like a hero,
e was like a thousand other people, and nobody could
identify him, or say, " who is that ? " as the owners of
great dark eyes, and dark hair, at the top of six-feet-two
of stature, are ordinarily remarked upon. Lilias laughed
as this thought crossed her mind, and, with a little sym-
pathetic feeling, was sorry for Margaret. For herself
she had ceased altogether to think of the other, and she
was not afraid that her sister would stand out against
Lewis. There would be a struggle : but a struggle in
which the happiness of a beloved child is at stake is decided
before it has begun. So on the whole, after finding this
phantom life more ghostly because there was no Lewis in

282 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

it, she reflected that when he came it would bloom into
reality ; and she was satisfied to bear it for a little — until
the better time should come.

But when day followed day, and the better time did
not come, a curious blight, like the atmospheric greyness
which agricultural people call by that name, crept slowly
over her, she could scarcely tell how. The earth looked
as if a perpetual east-wind were blowing, yet as if there
was no air to breathe ; the skies were all overcast, the
trees seemed to dry up and grow grey like everything
else : and a certain air of consciousness, a perception that
this was so, seemed to come into the house. Lilias per-
ceived vaguely, as she went about with a heart growing
heavier and a dull wonder which went through every-
thing, that eve^body was sorry for her. Why were
they sorry for her ? Jean said, " My poor darling ! "
and petted her as if she had been ill. Old Simon even
put on a look of sympathy. In Margaret's eyes, there was
something the girl had never seen there before. Anger,
compunction, pity — which was it ? All of these feelings
were in it. Sometimes she would turn away as if she
could not bear the sight of Lilias, sometimes would be
so tender to her that the girl could have wept for herself.
Why ? for Margaret had never made an exhibition of the
adoration with which she regarded her little sister, and
it was only at some crisis that Lilias was allowed to suspect
how dear she was. They studied all her little tastes,
watched her steps, devoted themselves to please her :
every one of which indications showed Lilias more^and
more that they were aware of something of which^ she
was not aware, some reason why she should be unhappy.
And she became unhappy to fulfil the necessities of the
position. There was something which was being hid from
her ; what was it ? Was it that he was only amiable and
kind after all, and had merely wished to be serviceable,
without any other feeling ? But, if that was so, Margaret
would be glad, not sorry ; and how could they know that
this would make any difference to her, Lilias ? But, if
not that, what could it be ? And every day for many
days she had expected to see him, when she walked down
to the water-side, or wandered about New Murkley. She
had thought that she would meet him round every corner,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 283

that Adam at the " Murkley Arms " would be seen with
his cart going for " the gentleman's " luggage, and Janet
hanging the curtains and selecting the finest trout. It
seemed so natural that he should come back. It seemed
so certain that he must somehow seek the opportunity of
telling that tale that had been left untold.

And as the time passed on, day following slowly after
day, and he came not, Lilias felt that some explanation was
necessary. There must be an explanation. What was
it ? That Margaret had sent him away ? Margaret's eyes
looked as if she had sent him away. Was it possible that
he could have taken his dismissal from any one but her-
self ? Then it was that Lilias had hot fits and cold fits
of suppressed unhappiness. Sometimes she would be
angry with Margaret for rejecting, and with Lewis for
allowing himself to be rejected, and then would fall into
a dreamy sadness, saying to herself that it was always
so, and that this was the way of the world. But of all
these troubles she said not a word, being too proud to
signify to any one that her heart was engrossed by one
who had not given her his. There were moments indeed
in which she was tempted to throw herself upon Jean's
sympathetic bosom : but then she recollected that Jean's
story, such as it was, had been one of mutual love, whereas
hers could only be that of an unfortunate attachment,
words which made Lilias flame with resentment and shame.
No, she must just pine and wait until he made some sign,
or shake it all indignantly off, and make up her mind
to think of it no more.

This was the state of affairs one afternoon when the
next event in this history occurred. They were all seated
together in the drawing-room, Jean, as usual, working
at her table-cover, Margaret from behind her book casting
wistful looks now and then at Lilias, who for her part
was seated in one of the windows, in the recess, with her
head relieved against the light, doing nothing. She had
a book, it is true, but was not looking at it ; her mind
had turned inward. She was pondering her own story,
which was more interesting than any romance. Margaret,
gave many glances at her as she sat, with her delicate
profile and her fair locks, against the afternoon light.
The post was late, and Simon brought the bag into the

284 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

drawing-room, moving them all to a little excitement.
Margaret opened it and took out its sole contents, a large
blue envelope containing a bulky enclosure.

" There is nothing for either of you," she said, " but
something of the nature of business from Mr. Allenerly
for me." Then the little flutter of disappointed expecta-
tion calmed down, and silence fell again over the room,
broken only by the sound of the torn paper and breaking
seal, as Margaret opened her parcel. It was a law-docu-
ment of some sort, bulky and serious. Margaret looked
at it, and gave a sharp, sudden cry, which startled the
others. The crackling of the paper as she unfolded it
seemed to make a noise of disproportionate importance in
the stillness of the room ; for a law-paper, what could
that mean but mere business and money ? it could affect
nobody's well-being. But the paper, they saw, trembled
in Margaret's hands. She could not contain herself as
she turned 'it over. She burst forth into strange exclama-
tions.

"It is only just ; it is only right : it is no more than
ought to be done : it is the right thing : no more —
But after a while, she added, as if the words were forced
from her — " It is not everybody that would have done it.
I will not deny him the praise."

" What is it, Margaret ? What is it ? " Jean said.

Margaret made no immediate reply. She turned over
the pages, which were many, with hands that shook, and
much crackling and rustling of the paper.

" I cannot read it," she said ; " I cannot see to read
it. It makes my head go round. Oh, no, it is no more
than justice — it is just the right thing ; no more — no
more —

" Margaret, it is something far, far out of the ordinary
or you would not cry out like that."

Yes, it is out of the ordinary ; but then the first thing,
the wrong doing, was out of the ordinary. This is no
more — oh, not the least more — than he ought to have
done from the first."

She was so much agitated that her voice shook as well
as her hands, and Jean got up, throwing aside her work,
and came to her sister's side. Lilias rose too, she did
not know why, and stood watching them with an interest

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 285

she could not explain to herself. Matters of business were
not of any interest to her generally. All the law-papers
in the world, in ordinary circumstances, would not have
drawn her for a moment from a book, or out of the dreamy
moods which she called thinking. But she rose now, full
of an indefinable anxiety. When Jean had looked
anxiously over her sister's shoulder, peering at the papev
with wondering eyes for a few minutes, she too cried out
with a quavering voice, and- threw up her hands.

" What does it mean ? What does it mean, Margaret ?
That he wills it back to her, is that what it says ? "

" More than that ! There's the letter that explains.
He gives it back, every penny of the money, as he received
it. It is a great thing to do. I am not grudging him the
praise."

" Grudging him ! — it is everything he has — it is all his
living. Margaret ! You will not let her take it — every-
thing he has ? "

" Jean, be silent — he has no right to a shilling. It was
hers by nature and every law. I will not deny that, as soon
as he saw his duty, he has done it like a man."

" His duty ? — but it is everything ! and he was son and
daughter both to the old man. It is all his living : and
neither you nor me ever thought what was our duty to
our father's father. Margaret ! Oh ! it is more than
justice this — more than justice ! You will not let Lilias
strip him of every shilling that he has ! "

This impassioned dialogue, quick and breathless, gave
Lilias a kind of half-enlightenment, kindling the instinct
within her. She came forward with a quick, sudden
movement.

" If it concerns me, what is it ? " she said.

' ' There would have been no need to tell her, if you could
but have held your tongue," cried Margaret to Jean,
vehemently, " and now she will insist to hear all."

" It is her right to hear everything," cried Jean, as
eagerly. The gentle woman was transformed. She was
turned into a powerful opponent, a determined champion.
Her face was pale, but she was firmer than Margaret
herself.

" What is it ? " cried Lilias, coming forward. It seemed
to her that she was on the edge of some great change, she

286 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

could not tell what. Her steps were a little uncertain,
her looks a little wild. Strange fancies and tremors
touched her mind, she anticipated she knew not what.
She put out her hand for the papers. "If it concerns
me, will you let me see it ? " she said.

" You would not understand," said Margaret, with a
quiver of her lips. " It is a law-paper ; it is what they
call a deed of gift. It is giving you back, Lilias, all your
old grandfather died possessed of. It is a wonderful thing.
He it was all left to — was perhaps not so ill a person as
we thought "

" Hi i he was never ill — he is just honour itself,"

cried Miss Jean, " and righteousness and truth."

" I'm not grudging him his due. The person's name is
Lewis Grantley that was your grandfather's companion,
and got all his money. His conscience has troubled him.
I will say nothing against him. At the last he has done
justice and given it all back."

"Is it only about money, then, after all ? " Lilias said,
with a disappointed tone ; then she looked again upon her
sisters, in whose agitation she read something further.
" There is more than that ! " she cried.

" Jean, will you hold your tongue ! Do you understand
what I am saying to you, Lilias ? All your grandfather's
money, which has rankled at our hearts since ever he died.
Money ! " said she — " it's a great fortune. It makes you
a great heiress — it restores the Murrays to their right place
— it makes wrong right. It is more than money, twenty
times more ; it's family credit, it's restoration/ it's your
fit place. By the time you come of age, with good guiding
— listen to me, Lilias — you'll be able to have your palace,
to reign like a princess, to be just a queen in your own
country. Is it wonderful if it goes to my heart ? It
is more than money — it is just new life for the family
and for you."

" And in the meantime," said Miss Jean, who had been
kept down almost by physical force, Margaret grasping
her by the arm and keeping her back — " in the mean time,
he that gives it — which he has no right to do, for it was
willed to him and intended for him by the man that owned
it all, and who was just as well able to judge as any of us
— he will go out into the world penniless ; he will have

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 287

to earn his bread, he does not know where ; he will have
to give up everything that makes life pleasant. And he
has not the up-bringing for it, poor lad. He has lain in
the soft and drunk of the sweet all his life. It will be far
harder to him to give up than for us to do without it,
that have never had it. If you hear the one side, you
must hear the other, Lilias."

Lilias, thus suddenly elevated into a judge, gazed
at them both with eyes in which wonder soon gave place
to a higher sentiment. It had never happened to her in
her life before to be appealed to thus. Margaret took up
the word almost before Jean had finished. They con-
tended before her unconsciously like two advocates. She
drew a chair towards her, and sat down facing them,
listening, a strange tumult of different feelings in her mind.
By this time the meaning of what Margaret had said had
begun to penetrate her intelligence. A great fortune,
a palace restored, a reign like a princess — Lilias was not
insensible to such hopes ; but what was all this about a
man who would go out friendless upon the world ?

"Stop a* little," she said, "Margaret and Jean." The
crisis had given to Lilias an extreme dignity and calm.
" There is one thing that I have first to hear. The man
that you are speaking of, that has done this, who is he ?
Do I know him ? " Lilias said.

They both returned the look with a sort of awe, and
both were afraid. They could not tell what might come
of it ; they had known her from her cradle, and trained
her to everything she knew, and yet, in the first great
emergency of her life, they neither of them knew what she
would do. They looked at her taking her first step alone
in the world with a troubled wonder. It was beyond
them ; they tried to influence the new adventuress amid
all these anomalies of existence, but, having said what was
in them of their own, were silent, afraid to reveal the one
fact upon which all hung, the one thing that must decide
all. They did not know how she would take it ; they had
no clue to the mysteries of that heart which had opened
into womanhood before their eyes, nay, under their wings,
taking warmth from them. Then Margaret spoke.

"It is right and fit," she said, " that Lilias should
be the judge. I would have taken it in my own hand,

288 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

and saved her the pain and the problem ; but sooner or
later she would have to know. Lilias, the man that is your
grandfather's heir is one that we are all acquainted with.
He came among us, I will not say with treachery, with
what he thought a good meaning. I will allow him all that.
We thought very ill of him, me in particular. I believed
him a lickspittle, a creature that had fawned to the old
man, and got round him. Perhaps I was altogether mis-
taken ; I will acknowledge to you that I was mistaken
in many things. And now he has at last seen what was
the root of the whole matter — he has seen that from
beginning to end the inheritance was clearly yours. I am
not denying that it is a great thing to do. Now that he
sees it, he gives it you back out of — I will allow it — a good
heart. Here is the gift to you."

Lilias waved the paper away ; her voice was hoarse
and weak.

" You don't say who it is. Oh ! what do I care for all
that ? Who is he, who is he, this man "

" You must have divined it. He is just the young
man you .have known, both here and in London, under
the name of Murray, to which I always said he had no
right."

Upon this Lilias jumped up in a sudden access of excited
feeling ; her blue eyes flashed, her fair hair shone against
the light behind her like a nimbus. She said not a word,
nor left time for such in the lightning speed of her move-
ments, but, snatching the paper suddenly out of Margaret's
astonished hands, tore it across and yet across with the
action of a fury. Then she flung the fragments into her
sister's lap, and stamped her foot upon the ground.

" How dares he, how dares he," she cried, " send that
to me ! Oh ! it is to you, Margaret ! and you would
traffic in it ; but it must come to me in the end. Send
him back his rags, if you please, -or put them in the fire,
or do what you like with them. But never, never more,"
cried Lilias, " let them be named to me ! Me take his
money from him ! — I would sooner die ! And if you do it,
Margaret," she cried, advancing closer, shaking her little
fist in her sister's face, " if you do it, I will just disown it
the moment I am old enough. Oh, how dared he, how
dared he send that to me ! " Then the .height of her

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 289

excitement dropped, her tone changed, she began to cry
like a child. " So that is what he has been doing, that !
instead of coming — and me that wanted him so ! " Lilias
cried, piteously, her lips quivering. She who had been a
dignified judge of the highest morals, and an impassioned
actor in one of the gravest difficulties of life within the
last ten minutes, sank down a little sobbing girl, struck
with the keen barb of a child's disappointment, that
infinite sharpness of despair which is to last for ever. To
think that he should have been occupied with matters
like this and not come to her ! She was barely eighteen.
The great and the small were still confused in her mind.
" And me that wanted him so ! " she repeated, with that
little piteous quiver of her lips, and a sob coming at
intervals.

The two ladies sat and gazed at her without a word to
say. They exchanged a look. If there was a little sub-
dued triumph in the soft eyes of Jean, they were not for
that the less bewildered. Lilias had solved the whole
question, not by the tearing up of the paper, which was
so easily renewed again, but all unconsciously by that
childlike, piteous complaint. Margaret, in the look which
she cast upon her sister, acknowledged it as much as Jean
did. There was nothing more to say.

CHAPTER XLIII

" MY DEAR SIR,

" Your packet and enclosure were duly received
by me, and I think it right, having perhaps misjudged the
young man, to begin by telling you that I am now willing
to allow I may have been prejudiced, and that there was
more to be said than I thought perhaps upon his side of
the question. We are all very dour and set upon our own
way in this family. Ladies like my sister Jean and me
have many lessons to bring down our pride, besides the
gift of a judgment not so swayed by personal circumstances
as a man's. But Sir Patrick had ever had his own way,

IO

290 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

and it had no doubt become a law to him. And it may
be as you say, that we that were his nearest kin made little
effort to gain his confidence. We were led to believe it
would have been of little use. In all that, it is just possible
we may have been mistaken ; and, though I cannot for
a moment allow any justification of his unnatural act in
passing over Lilias (though unacquainted with her, which
is the only excuse, but that too was his own blame), yet
I will avow that to make some provision for a companion
that had been so attentive, as I am informed Mr. Grantley
was, giving up his entire time to him, was no more than
what was just. You will see that in admitting so much as
this, I am going far, farther than I ever thought to do ;
but his action in the matter being so honourable, and
you speaking so well of him, I am ready to make this
concession. The deed you enclosed to me is no more
than justice, according to my sentiments. I honour the
young man- for having strength of mind to do it, but I
think it was his duty to do it, and my only surprise is
that, being capable of that sacrifice now, he should not have
done it .sooner, and thus remedied the wrong before further
harm could arise. Few persons, however, divine just the
right moment for an effort of this kind, and I am very
willing for my part to give the young man his due.

" There is, however, I am grieved to say, some difference
of opinion in this respect among us, always so united
as we have been : and it is in accordance with a desire
on the part of my sisters that I have to request you will
inform Mr. Grantley that his deed is inadmissible, but
that we all think it might be possible to come to some
better understanding by a personal interview. If, there-
fore, he will come here when it is convenient to him, we
will receive him. He will be stopping in London, no doubt,
till the end of the season ; but, having so many friends,
we cannot but think it more than likely that he will be
coming North to the moors about the I2th or sooner.
He will no doubt find his old quarters in the ' Murkley
Arms ' at his disposal, and a personal conference would
redd up many matters that we cannot allow to remain
as they are. You will therefore have the kindness to
represent this to him. I retain the paper in the mean-
time, but a glance at it, with the commentaries that have

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 291

been made upon it in this family, will let him see at once
that it is a thing which we could never accept nor think
of. You will perhaps say to him, in sending this message,
that I Margaret Murray of Gowanbrae (not of Murkley),
respect his reasoning and approve his action, which I
should in all likelihood have accepted without further
comment, if it had been me only that was concerned.
But I will not go against the sense of the family, and I
desire that he should be acquainted with our determina-
tion.

" I hope you are returned in good health, and none
the worse for your London diversions. It seems to me
that I have long arrears of sleeping to make up, which
is hard to do, seeing no person can sleep more than the
time they are used to, whatever the occasion may be.
You will make our compliments to Mrs. Allenerly and
the young people, who, I hope, are all in good health and
giving you satisfaction.

" I remain, my dear Mr. Allenerly,

" Your faithful servant,
" MARGARET MURRAY (of Gowanbrae)."

Miss Margaret was, on the whole, pleased with the con-
struction of this letter. She smiled somewhat grimly to
herself as she re-read her sentence about the deed and
the commentaries upon it. The one emphatic commentary
upon it was that of Lilias, and nothing could be more
conclusive. It lay torn in six pieces in Margaret's desk.
It was impossible to express an opinion more decisively.
There had been a pause of consternation after Lilias'
self-betrayal. But the look the sisters exchanged over
her was one in which volumes were expressed. Margaret's
eyes were dim with trouble and astonishment. To her,
as to so many parents and caretakers, the young creature
who had grown up at her side was still a child. She had
been vaguely alarmed about her, afraid in the abstract lest
she should love unwisely, prepared in the abstract for
suitors and " offers." But it had not occurred to her that
it was possible for Lilias, unassisted, unaccompanied,
to leap by herself into the greatest of decisions, and to

10*

292 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

entertain anything like a passion in that youthful bosom.
In some mysterious way, her fears had never settled upon
Lewis at all. She had seen her child surrounded by other
and more brilliant competitors for her favour. He,
discouraged, no doubt, by her own refusal to consider his
claims, had been too generous, too magnanimous, she
thought, for a lover. And they had parted with him
without any harm done. Lilias had been cheerful enough
on the journey, not like a girl who had left her heart
behind. She had not drooped even when they reached
home, though something dreamy, something languid, had
appeared in her. Margaret had been entirely re-assured
in this respect. But in a moment all this fabric of con-
solation went to the winds. She looked at Jean with
wonder and dismay unspeakable, and met her eyes in
which there was a subdued satisfaction mingled with sur-
prise. But there was no time to resent that glimmer of
triumph. The chief thing was that not the faintest
possibility remained between them of doubt or uncertainty .
Without a conflict the question was decided. Margaret
might struggle as she pleased, it was a foregone conclusion.
The eyes of the sisters said to each other, " This being so,
then "

There was no more to be said. Even Margaret, who
would have stood to the death under any other circum-
stances, felt the arms drop out of her hands. What could
be done against Lilias, against that sob, so ungrammatical,
so piteous ? " And me that wanted him so ! "

Long and troubled were the conferences held between
Margaret and Jean thereafter. One of the questions dis-
cussed was whether Lilias herself should be called and
examined on the subject, but this both decided was a
thing not to be done.

" To open her heart to you and me when they have
never opened their hearts to one another," Miss Jean said.
" Could we ask it, Margaret ? "

" You think -you are further ben in such subjects than
I am," said Margaret. " But who thinks of asking it ?
Would I profane her thoughts, the infant that she is ? No
me ! Deep though I regret it, and hard though I take it,
she shall never think shame to look me in the face, what-
ever happens."

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 293

" It is not just that she would think shame," said Jean,
the better informed.

But this expedient was rejected unanimously. They
sat together till late in the night discussing the subject
in all its branches. It is curious how easy of acceptance
a decision becomes which may have been resisted and
struggled against with might and main, as soon as it is
seen beyond all question to be inevitable. Margaret on
that morning would have declared that a marriage between
Lilias Murray and her supplanter was a thing she would
die to prevent. But, after her little sister's self-betrayal,
the impossibility shifted and changed altogether, and
Margaret found that the one thing which she would die
to prevent, was not Lilias' marriage, but Lilias' unhappiness.
The change was instantaneous.

" This being so, then "

It was all over. There was no longer any ground upon
which to struggle and resist.

As for Lilias, she escaped to her room as soon as she
had come to herself and realized what had happened.
The girl was two or three different creatures in these
days. She was a child ready to cry, ready to commit
herself on a sudden provocation, and a woman able to
stand upon the edge of the new world which she con-
templated with an astonished comprehension of its
loftiness and greatness, and to meet its higher require-
ments with a spirit as high. She felt able to judge in her
own small person, with an ideal sense of youthful detach-
ment from all sophistications, the greater question, and at
the same time unable to bear the smallest contrarieties
without a burst of superficial emotion, anger, or despair.
Her development was but half accomplished. Nobody
understood this, neither did she herself understand it.
She escaped from the observation of her sisters with a
sense of impatience, which did not for some time deepen
into the sense of having betrayed herself. That indeed
scarcely came at all. There was so much else to think of.
She went to her own. room, and threw herself down upon
the sofa, with her heart beating and her head throbbing,
every pulse sounding, she thought, in her ears in the excite-
ment that possessed her. So that was what he had been
doing ! Not lingering, as disappointment had begun to

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

picture him, in London among his fine friends, dancing,
talking, as if Lilias had never been ; but employing his
time, his thoughts, in transferring to her his fortune, all
he had in the world. Lilias tingled with impatience, with
a desire to clench her small fist in his face, as she had
done to Margaret, and ask him how dared he, how dared
he ! While underneath, in her growing soul, there diffused
itself that ennobling satisfaction in the consciousness of
a nobleness in him, which enables women to bear all the
strokes of fate, the loss of their heroes, of their sons, joyful
that their beloved have done well. By degrees this higher
sentiment swallowed up everything else in her. She sat
up, and put back her ravelled hair, and held her head high.
There had been an injustice, and, at the cost of everything
he had, he had set it right. He had gone Beyond all duty,
all necessity, and despoiled himself of everything, not, the
letter said, '.' for love, but for justice." She was a girl in
love, and it may be supposed would rather have believed
that her lover had done something partially wrong for
love than altogether right for justice ; but those who think
so have no knowledge of the ideal of youth. Her heart
swelled and rose with this thought. She felt that happi-
ness, that glory of approval wrhich is the very crown of
love. The colour came to her cheeks. She jumped up
with that elastic bound which was natural to her, and stood
in the middle of the room with her head high, smiling at
him through the distance and the unknown, approving
hira. At that moment she felt with pride that the tie
between them was not a mere empty liking, a natural
attraction towards youth and pleasant qualities, or that
still less profound but more enthralling charm of beauty,
which so often draws two young creatures together.
Lewis had no beauty. There were hundreds of others
more gifted than he ; but which of them all could have
done this, " not for love, but for justice ! " She began to
go deep into it, this great action, and to set it forth and
enhance it to herself in every way. He had but to have
come to her, to have spoken to her as he had meant to
do (she knew) that evening, when those two nobodies,
those two fools, had taken possession of the corner under
the palm-trees, and she would have accepted him, and kthis
justice would have been done in a roundabout way, 'not

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 295

for justice, but for love. But when it came to the point
(oh ! yes, oh ! yes, it was something more than the foolish
couple under the palms) his mind had felt that this was
inadequate, he had shut his mouth in spite of himself
and given over his hopes, and determined that it must be
justice and not love. The other would have been the
happier way ; all this waiting, and suspense, and the
separation, and those lingering days without him would
have been spared ; but this was the better ! Lilias felt
herself grow taller, grander, in her approval of everything ;
he had done what was right, not what was pleasant. The
growing weariness, the gathering doubt, the film which had
seemed to be rising between them, were all made desir-
able, noble by this issue. He would not have made her
suffer, oh, not a day's suspense, if he could have helped
it ; but it was inevitable, it was better thus

And now — Lilias caught her breath a little, and laughed
for pleasure, and blushed for shy shamefacedness. She
would have liked to write herself, and send him the torn
up deed, and say, " What folly ! is not thine mine, and
mine thine. ? " but she remembered with a blush that
she could not, that it would be " unwomanly," that word
with which Margaret had scared her all her life, that she
must wait now till he came to set everything right. The
waiting brought a little pang with it not altogether to be
chased away. " Of course he will come at once," she said
to herself. But when there is distance, and separation,
and all the chances of the unknown between you and the
person whom you love, the " of course " has always a
quaver in it. This was all. Her happy excitement, her
satisfaction, her triumph in his excellence, would have made
her perhaps too confident of every blessedness, but for
this one faint note of uncertainty which just trembled
through it, and made it perhaps more exquisite, though
Lilias did not think so. The waiting, which she thought
the only pain in the matter, was the perfume, the flavour
of the whole.

Next day, Margaret wrote to Mr. Allenerly the letter
above recorded ; by the time she did so, her mind had
worked out the subject. She had grudged the great match
which it had always been on the cards that Lilias might
make ; but, at all events, it was not a long-leggit lad who

296 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

had taken her eye, to be a disappointment an 1 vexation
to all her future life.

"He is not a fool," she said, " that is a great thing,
for a fool is the most unmanageable of all the creatures
on this earth ; and he has plenty of resources, he will not
be on her hands for ever : and he must have a kind
nature, or he would never have taken such care of yon old
man. And he cannot be much heeding about money for
its own sake ; and he must have a strong sense of justice.
And on the whole, though I have set my face against him,
I have always liked him," Margaret said, with a sigh.

" He has just the tenderest heart and the best disposi-
tion that ever was," cried Jean.

" Oh ! yes, no doubt you will speak well of him : for
he is in love with you too," said Margaret.

" Oh ! Margaret, that is what I like in him — he has no
jealousy, as small creatures have. He is just as fond
as he can be of those that like her best. He is in love
with us all three."

Upon this Margaret shook her head.

" Not with me — that would be beyond nature — for I
have scorned him and denied him."

" Nevertheless," said Miss Jean, with the • firmness
that necessity had developed in her, "he is in love with
us all three.""

The next morning there was a very different kind of
scene in Mr. Allenerly's office, where the excellent writer
read Miss Margaret's letter with a grin that was somewhat
cynical.

" They may try as they like," he said to himself, " they
will not get him now. I said he was hasty, I said he was
premature, but he would not be guided by me." He
stretched out his hand for the newspaper which lay on
one side of his table with his morning letters, and ran
his finger down a line of small paragraphs : then shook
his head when he had found the one he wanted, and,
drawing his paper towards him, replied at once as follows :

" MY DEAR MADAM,

" Your communication I would have had much
pleasure in forwarding to my client, Mr. Lewis Grantley,
sometimes calling himself Murray, but I. regret that that

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 297

is not now in my power. You will easily understand that
after despoiling himself of everything he had, it was no
longer possible for him to live like a gentleman, doing
nothing, in an expensive place like London. His friends
were all very kind, but he has a great deal of sense for
so young a man, and saw that in that there was nothing
to trust to. So he took advantage of his opportunities,
and struck when the iron was hot. He had little difficulty
in getting an appointment as secretary to Sir Andrew
Morton, the new Governor of the Pharaway Islands. He
was in good spirits, comparatively speaking, and sai</
the Governor was an old friend, and that he had every
hope of getting on well and enjoying the post — which I
make no doubt he will, being one of the people that always
fall on their feet : which no doubt is greatly due to his
being of a very friendly kind of nature himself.

'' It is a long voyage, and he did not expect to arrive
till September ; but, any way, I will forward to him your
letter, and he will no doubt reply in good time. The ap-
pointment was either for two or three years. It was
strongly on his mind to go to Murkley before he left,
but there were delays about preparing the deed, for which
I, I am afraid, am partly responsible, and I discouraged
him, remembering that you would not hear of it. I
imagine, by the tone of your letter, that you may have
more or less changed your mind ; but, unfortunately, it
is too late.

" If I hear anything of Mr. Murray during his voyage,
I will let you know. I am none the worse, I thank you
kindly, for my London diversions. I avoided late hours
and hot rooms, which play the mischief with the constitu-
tion. My wife warmly reciprocates your kind messages,
and I remain, my dear Miss Murray,

" Your obedient servant to command,

" A. ALLENERLY."

This letter fell like a thunderbolt on Murkley. They
had anticipated not only no such obstacle, but no obstacle
at all. They had thought that Lewis would arrive by the
next train, throwing aside all his engagements, too happy
to be called upon to appear before them and explain all

296 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

that he intended and wished. Margaret for a time was
absolutely silenced by the news ; it fell upon her like a
stone. Fortunately she was alone when it came, and was
not besieged by the anxious looks of the others, which
would have been more than she could bear. After she
had fully realized it, she sent for Jean and communicated
the news to her.

" It will kill Lilias," Jean said.

" Lilias is not such a poor creature," cried Margaret,
though her very soul was quaking. " My poor Jean, I
do not want to put you in mind of your trouble — but
you did not die."

" Ah ! but it was different, very different," said Jean.
" You cannot put me in mind, Margaret, of what I never
forget. It was settled between us, and we understood
each other ; that takes the bitterness out of it."

" Some people would say that put the bitterness into
it," said Margaret. fe -

" Ah ! but they would be ignorant folk ; we were
belonging the one to the other ; now Lilias, poor thing !
has nothing to lean upon. She is just nothing to him.
If he were to die — — "

" God forgive you for such thoughts ! He is a young
lad, and healthy, and well-conditioned. Why should he
die ? "

" Others have done it before him," Miss Jean said ;
" but, living or dying, she will feel that there is nothing
in it. She has no right to him nor he to her. It will just
kill her."

" Hold your tongue, Jean, hold your tongue," Margaret
cried in dismay.

In the meantime there was no appearance of anything
killing Lilias. She had come out of the dreamy state of
expectation that had been growing upon her into a cheer-
ful energy. On this particular morning she was as sunny
as the day. She had been seen to look at the list of trains,
but it was too soon as yet to expect that he could come
from London. She did not speak of him or make any
reference to what she looked for ; but when their daily
walk led through the village, Lilias lingered opposite the
" Murkley Arms " with an intuition which unhappily
brought its own fulfilment. Adam, with his creel over

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 299

his shoulder, came up as usual with his slow, lumbering
tread, and Margaret was too much interested in the trout
not to cross the road to look at them. He was turning
them over for her inspection when Janet appeared at the
door as usual. Lilias thought that she had always been
fond of Janet ; she said to herself that it was for that
reason she had been anxious to assure her that all the
fable about Philip Stormont was untrue. She was glad
now to see her honest face, and it made her heart beat to
think that perhaps Janet might have some news. She
responded to her " Good day, Miss Lilias," by holding
out her hand, an honour which the good woman received
as if this little country girl had been a princess, curtsey-
ing as she touched it and making her little compli-
ment.

" I am aye blithe to see ye passing ; and ye are no
looking white and shilpit, as I feared, but just in grand
health, and like a rose after your season in London. Miss-
Margaret has always taken such good care of you. Lady
Eeda she is just like a ghost. They've come hame,
maybe you'll have heard."

" Lady Ida stays longer and goes out more than we
did," said Lilias ; " but everybody," she added, with a
little natural wile, " is leaving London now."

" Oh, ay, we'll soon be in August, and you'll no keep
the gentlemen after that," said Janet, with true apprecia-
tion. " It makes more stir in the countryside, but it's
little it does for us, and I'm wae, wae for my gentleman
that was here in the last year ; ye may mind upon him, Miss
Lilias. I never could tell what brought him here. It wasna
for the fishing, for he was no hand at that, but as pleasant-
spoken and as good-hearted a lad as ever stepped. There
was one of his portmanteaus aye left here, and I hoped
to have him back ; but we had word to send it to him
a week since."

"And is that, why you are wae? But perhaps there
may be no occasion for it, Janet," said Lilias, with a
smile. " We saw him in London, and I think he meant
to come back."

"Eh, Miss Lilias, that would have been a good hear-
ing ; but maybe you do not hear that he has lost his siller,
poor lad — some o1 thae banks, I suppose," said Janet.

300 If WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" It's a braw thing to have nae siller and nae trouble
with the losing o't."

" I think that is a mistake too," said Lilias, her fair
face glowing with pleasure. " He has not lost so much as
he thought."

" Well, Miss Lilias, no doubt you'll have ways of
kennin'. I only judge by his letter, and that was very
doun. My heart was wae for him when I read it, and they
sailed yesterday. I hope he got his things in time."

" Sailed ! — yesterday ! " Lilias echoed, with a wonder-
ing face.

" And, losh me ! " cried Janet, " they say it's away
among the cannibals. If they sent the sodgers to shoot
them down, I would think nothing o't — for them that
feed upon their neighbours' flesh, Lord bless us ! they're
fit for nothing better — tout a fine, peaceable young gentle-
man, with none of those warlike ways, what would they
pit the like of him forrit for, just to fa' a victim •"

" Lilias, it is time we were going home," said Margaret,
turning round quickly and surveying the blanched' coun-
tenance and wondering eyes aghast of her companion.

" Ye are just frichtening the ladies," said Adam ;
" there's nae mair danger among the cannibals than at
hame. They're no cannibal now ; do you think that
could last, in the face of steam-engines and a' that, and
advancin' civileezation and British rule ? But the ladies
they have mair sense. There's no such things nowadays.
We a' eat ane anither, but it's in a mair modest way.''

" I have no more time to speak to you, Adam ; but
ye' 11 just take that trout up to the cook ; and come away,
Lilias — you have walked too far, your face is just the colour
of wax," said Margaret, anxiously drawing her sister's
arm within her own.

"It is not the walk — did you hear that, Margaret ? "-

" Did I hear what ? I just heard that woman Janet
havering, as she always does."

" She said he sailed yesterday." Lilias made a pause
and looked into her sister's face. " " Is it true ? "

" Where would he sail to, I would like to know ? " Mar-
garet^ said; then, with a sudden pressure of the girl's
arm, " And supposing it were true ? It was what I would
have done in his place, if it had been me."

TT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 301

Lilias' young figure swayed upon her arm, the light
went out of her eyes. She walked on mechanically for
a few minutes, sustained by Margaret, not seeing where
she went. In those minutes everything was dark to her,
the out-door world, the inner horizon. Blackness came
up without and within, and covered earth and heaven.
First disappointment, and that terrible prolongation of
suspense, the hope deferred that maketh the heart sick ;
then an overwhelming sense of uncertainty, of insecurity,
of the earth failing beneath her feet. All had seemed so
easy before. To tear a piece of paper, to write a letter,
what more simple ? But perhaps now what had seemed
so easy might be impossible — impossible ! He might
never have loved her, he might never come back at
all ; it might be all a delusion. Lilias did not swoon
or lose consciousness ; on the contrary, she remembered
everything, saw everything in the darkness like a horrid
dream ; her heart throbbed, her blood all rushed to the
brain to reinforce it, to give strength for the emergency ;
all round her there was nothing but blackness. The sun
was shining full upon her, but where she was it was
night.

All that Margaret saw outside was that Lilias said
nothing, that she clung to her arm, that she stumbled
a little in walking, as if she did not see any little obstacles
in the way, and hurried on as if she were pursued, bending
her head, her feet twisting with a sort of headlong im-
pulse. She did not know what to think ; she said, with
a quaver of profound anxiety in her voice :

" My darling, where are you going so fast, Lilias, my
bonnie dear ? "

These words penetrated the gloom, and brought Lilias
in some degree to herself. The darkness quivered and
opened up. She slackened her steps, leaning still more
closely on her sister's arm, and gradually the common day
came back in widening circles, and she began to see the
light and the trees. The crisis had been terrible, but
her heart already rallied.

" What do you say — about going fast ? Do you mean
the ship ? " she said.

"My bonnie dear!" was all Margaret's reply. And
she held the girl up with her strong arm, half "carrying

302 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

her, and hurrying her on the road towards home. Mar-
garet thought she was going to faint and fall, not seeing
that she was in fact recovering from the blow.

" Do not hold me so tight, Margaret ; you are hurting
me. Yes, I was walking fast — I forgot : for I want to
be home, home. Oh ! never mind me, Margaret ; I am
just a little giddy, but I am better." Lilias freed her arm
almost with impatience. " Why should you support
me ? Has anything happened to me ? " she said.

Then Margaret, who was always mistress, sank into
humility.

" My darling, I don't know that anything has just —
happened ; but you are not strong, and you are worried.
I would like to get you home."

" I am going home," said Lilias, with dignity.

There was so much noise in her head still, ?.s if all the
wheels of her being were working and turning, that she
had not much power of speech. But she walked with a
certain stateliness, rejecting all aid. And Margaret, who
had been sovereign all her life and directed everybody,
accompanied little Lilias in the height and greatness of
her passion, without saying a word, with a pathetic
humility, wondering at her as the people of Camelot
wondered at Elaine.

CHAPTER XLIV

THE following winter was very dreary and long. It began
early ; the iath itself, the beginning of the season, the
day of days in the North, rained from morning to night.
It never ceased raining through all the shooting season.
The rain ran into every crevice, into the holes in the
rocks, which were usually as dry as the sun could make
them, and the heather grew out of a bog, and the foot
sank in the treacherous greenness all over the moors.
There was little encouragement to tourists, and not much
to sportsmen, and women were kept indoors and exhausted
all their resources, and quarrelled, and were miserable.
If there had been perpetual bickering in the old Castle

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 303

of Murkley, there would have been nothing surprising in it.
The ladies were not happy ; they were in a state of painful
suspense and uncertainty. They neither knew what the
future was, nor when it should cease to be the future, and
become an astonishing present, changing all their life.
In the strange and dreary days which had succeeded their
discovery of Lewis' departure, there had been a kind of
pause in existence altogether. The unaccustomed con-
trariety of events, the impossibility of doing anything but
waiting, the inclination to upbraid each other, the uneasy
desire at heart to blame somebody, was like a stimulating
poison in all their veins. They stood, as it were, at bay
against fate, and in the silence, and with the keen percep-
tion they had that nothing could be done, were tempted
to turn their arms against each other, and make themselves
thoroughly miserable. There was a moment indeed when
this seemed inevitable. Margaret had only the impatience
of unhappiness to warrant her in assailing Jean, but there
was a certain reason in the instinctive impulse with which
the others turned upon Margaret, murmuring in their
hearts that it was she who was in fault. She it was
(though neither of them knew how entirely it was she)
who had sent the hero of their thoughts away. But for
her, the dilemma might have been met with natural ease,
and the problem solved. It was she who had stood in
every one's way. Her pride, her hard-heartedness, her
ambition for Lilias, even the temporary obtuseness and
self-conceit (that such epithets should ever have been
applied to Margaret !) which prevented her from seeing
as the others did what Lewis had done for them, had
brought matters to this crisis. It was her doing from first
to last. She was herself fully aware of this, and the con-
sciousness was as irritating as it was terrible. She alone
had ordained her child's unhappiness, had taken the
responsibility upon herself. When Lilias was seen wander-
ing about her old haunts, trying to accomplish her old
duties with a pale and abstracted countenance, retiring
within herself, she who had been so simple and child-like,
and crushed under the weight of an uncertainty which
made her heart sick, Margaret was nearly beside herself.
She irritated the suffering girl by her anxious solicitude.
She would scarcely allow her the solace of quiet, the last

304 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

right which a spirit in trouble has, of at least reconciling
itself to its trouble unobserved, and without interruption.
Margaret pursued Lilias with anxious questions, what
ailed her ? though she knew so well, to the bottom of her
heart, what the ailment was. Had she a headache ?
What was the matter that she could not eat her dinner ?
Why did it weary her to walk ?

" I must get the doctor to you," Margaret said, devoured
by alarm lest the delicate spirit should affect her slight
body, and harm come of it before their eyes.

" Oh, if you would but let her alone ! Can you not
see that it's the heart that ails her, and nothing else ? "
Miss Jean would say.

" Hold your peace about hearts. Do you think I am
not as unhappy about what has happened as any person ;
but I am not going to stand by and see her digestion a

wreck as well as " And Margaret would almost

weep in misery, in impatience, in impotence, till poor
Jean's heart was almost broken with the impossibility
of binding up her sister's, and making her believe that
all would be well. For to this, after a while, her desire
to upbraid Margaret turned — a desire to console and
soothe her. It was her fault, poor Margaret ! that was
the issue at last to which Jean's sympathetic passion
came.

Lilias, who was the most deeply involved, went through
an alarming crisis ; for some days she said nothing, averted
her looks, shut herself up as much as possible, would
accept no comfort, nor open her heart to any one. And
in this moment, when the girl suddenly found herself
before the impossible and understood that nothing —
nothing which any one could do could change the fact,
could break the silence, could make it possible for her
to have any communication with him to whom she had
so much to say — that even a hundred chances might
arise to keep her from any communication with him for
ever, a cloud of utter darkness, and of that sickness* of
the heart which accompanies the blank of disappointment,
took possession of her being. It was against all the habits
of her life. Hitherto she had but appealed to Margaret,
and all had gone right. Even in the present case there
had been an end of all opposition, as soon as it had been

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 305

made apparent to Margaret what was in her heart : and
for a moment it had appeared as if everything was to be
well. But not Margaret nor any one could pierce the
silence of the seas, and bring back a reply. No one could
stop the ship swiftly speeding to the other side of the
world. No one could shorten the inevitable time, blank
and dark and eventless, which must pass before any word
could be heard across those silent seas. And who was
to speak the word ? And how could any one answer for
it, that Lewis, repulsed and sent away, would listen, or
that he would undo all his plans, and come ? or that he
had not changed his mind ? He had never said those
final words which cast down all walls between two hearts.
Lilias had been sure he meant to say them ; but he had
not done so. And who could tell now if they ever would
be said ? and who could invite him to say them ? To
write to him would be to do so. In the retirement of her
own room she had written to him again and again to tell
him how she had treated his paper, and what she thought
of it, her admiration, her pain, and her impatience of his
" justice." But not one of those letters ever found its
way to the post. What were they, when she looked at
them again, but invitations, every one ? She tore them
to pieces, as she had torn the deed, and at last recognized
with such a schooling of her heart as is inconceivable at
first to the young disciple of life, the unaccustomed sufferer
and unwilling learner, that she could do nothing, that
there was nothing to be done but to wait, the hardest
expedient of all.

Thus it was Lilias, the youngest, the softest, the one
whom the others would have died to save, who had to
bear the worst, and to bear it in most loneliness of spirit.
After a while the others consulted over it, and in their
anxious watch over her, and mutual discussion of every
aspect of her face and mind, found a sort of occupation
in their distress. And both of them secretly sent out a
messenger, a letter — an effort to confront the impossible,
and overcome it, which brought them immediate consola-
tion. Lilias could neither write, nor could she, in her
shy and delicate youth, unveil her heart to her sisters,
or communicate the absorbed and endless preoccupation
with which her thoughts were centred on this one subject.

306 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

She " thought shame,"— which is different from being
ashamed — which is the reverence, the respect which a
pure nature has for the new and wonderful passion that
is in her veins, as well as her shrinking from a subject
which she had never learned to discuss, and which, till
it had been made into reality by communication with the
person beloved, is beyond disclosure. They talked to
each other about her, but Lilias could not talk to them or
to any one, any more than she could write to him. She
was dumb. She could do nothing, say nothing. Sooner
or later, in one way or another, almost every woman has to
go through this ordeal. Poor little Lilias met it unpre-
pared.

It is wrong to say, however, that the letters which were
sent were sent secretly. Margaret, when she recovered
from her abasement as the cause of all this trouble, and
began to -recollect again that she was the head of the
family, made no mystery of her proceedings. It is possible
that even Lilias knew, though she had no positive informa-
tion. Margaret wrote, inclosing to Lewis his torn deed,
and commentary on the facts of the case.

" You would have done well to see us before you put
the ocean between us, with such a grand question as this
to settle," she wrote. " I know not for how long you
are to be absent, or what may be your mind as to other
matters, but I would press, as far as it may be allowable,
the necessity of personal explanations before any other
steps are taken."

It was thought by Margaret's audience, now consisting
of Jean alone, that this letter was very dignified, very
moving, and certain to effect its purpose.

" He will be back by the next ship after he gets that,"
she said.

" How can we tell," said Margaret, " what his engage-
ments may be ? He may not be able to leave his post.
He has now gotten himself a master ; and who can tell
if he will be able at any inducement, to set himself free ? "
" There is nobody that could resist that," Miss Jean
said ; but, notwithstanding her confidence in Margaret's
letter, she herself, all secretly and trembling at her own
boldness, trembling too with a sense of guilt at the falsity
of it, the treachery to her sister, the idea of taking any

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 307

step which she could not disclose, " took up her pen," as
she described it, and wrote a long letter too, a letter which
was full of details, and far more touching than Margaret's.
But it was not so dignified, perhaps, nor was it at all
ambiguous in its phrases, but said, " come home " in so
many words, and promised all that heart of lover could
desire.

And then a great pause fell upon the agitated house-
hold. It was to a distant, newly-established colony that
Lewis had gone, and in those days there were not steam-
boat services to all the world, to shorten time and dist-
ance ; nothing but a sailing ship was likely to carry his letter
all the way, and not for a long time could any answer be
expected. It has almost gone out of our habitudes now
to wait weeks or months for an answer, and even then
this old penalty of separation had been much, modified ;
but still there was a long time to wait before they could
hope for any response, and the autumn days closed down
darkly over the house which had been interrupted in all
its innocent habits by the invasion of this new life. Mar-
garet made a speech to her little sister upon the expediency
of resuming all the occupations of old.

" You are but a young thing yet," she said, " and
history is just an endless subject. How are you to get
through life, when you come to be our age, if you know
nothing about the Thirty Years' War, or the French Revolu-
tion ? You will just look out all your books, Lilias, and
we will begin on Monday. There is little use in starting
anything at the end of the week."

To this Lilias assented without objection ; but that
Monday was very slow in coming. Who could settle
down to read history with a girl to whom a message
would come in the middle of a lesson that Lord Bellen-
dean in the library was " Fain, fain to see her, and would not
take an answer from me," a commission which Miss Jean
brought upstairs, breathless, one of the first mornings on
which this duty was attempted.

" What is Lord Bellendean wanting ? — it will be me he
is wishful to see," Margaret said, rising up at once.

" Oh, Margaret, you know very well what the lad is
wanting ; but he will not take his answer from us. I
was just greatly flustered, and I said I would let you know,

3o8 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

but nothing will serve him but to see Lilias," Miss Jean

said.

And, after the interview was over, is it to be supposed
that a.' young creature who had just refused a prospective
coronet could settle down again to the Thirty Years' War ?
Lilias took Lord Bellendean with great composure, but
it was not to be expected that she could go so far as that.
This was a very great event, as may be supposed. It
crept out somehow, as such events do, all the village
being aware that the young lord had driven to Murkley all
alone that August morning, abandoning even the grouse,
and that he had not even stayed to luncheon, but drove
back again in an hour, looking very woebegone.

" She will have refused him, the wilful monkey ; that
is what comes of training up a girl to think so much of
herself," Mrs. Seton said, with a countenance of awe.
It took away her breath to think of such a wilful waste of
the gifts of Providence. " If I thought any child of mine
would show such conceit, it would break my heart — yes,
yes, I am sure it would just break my heart. Conceit !— r-
what could it be but conceit, and thinking far more of
herself than she has any right to think ? Would she like
the Prince of Wales, I wonder ? " cried the minister's wife.

" Let us hope she'll not be one of those that go through
the wood and through the wood and take up with a crooked
stick at the end," said Mrs. Stormont, grimly.

It was somewhat comforting to the latter lady to know
of Lord Beilendean's discomfiture, too. But she, like
Mrs. Seton, felt that the self-importance of the Murrays
was almost beyond bearing. Who did they want for Lilias ?
— the Prince of Wales, as Mrs. Seton said ; but he was a
married man.

Thus Lilias lost the sympathy of her neighbour. Philip
Stormont had shown symptoms of a desire to return to the
position of hanger-on which he had occupied in town,
but his mother, once so eager, no longer encouraged this
wish.

" You will get nothing but slights and scorns from these
Murrays," she said to her son. " Let them be ; they are
too grand for the like of us."

" It was all your doing, mother," said Philip, " that I
ever went near them at all."

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 309

" It might be all my doing," said Mrs. Stormont, " but
it was not my doing that you let yourself be left in the
lurch and made a fool of by a parcel of women. If you
have no proper pride, I have some for you. There's Lady
Ida, that is a far finer girl than Lilias Murray, there's no
comparison between them ; the one is but a country girl,
and the other is a titled lady : and young Bellendean has
not behaved as he ought. If I were you, Philip, a strapping,
personable young man

Philip did not stop to ask what his mother's inference
meant. He went down in the rain to the river, and

ndered the whole business among the boulders in the
of Tay, up to his knees in the brown rushing water.
Here Philip reflected that women were no judges, that he
would have none of Lady Ida, who would expect a man to
be always on his knees to her, and that, though Lilias
was a pretty creature, there was still as good fish in the
sea as ever came to the net. He reflected, too, with some
warmth of satisfaction, that he was a personable man, as
his mother had said, and need not be afraid of showing
himself anywhere, and that there was no hurry ; for though
girls must make their hay while the sun shines, poor things,
as for a man, he could wait. This course of reflection
made him respond with careless good-humour to the greeting
of the minister, who called to him from the river-side to
ask what sport he was having.

" Not bad," Philip replied. " I thought I had lost
the knack of it, but it's coming back."

" Little doubt but it would come back," Mr. Seton said,
and they had a talk about the habits of the fish, and the
bait they preferred, and all their wily ways, which was
refreshing to Philip, and in which Adam Bennet, who was
in his usual place, took part.

" They're just as cunning as the auld gentleman him-
sel'," Adam said. " They would make grand lawyers,
they're that full of tricks and devices ; but tak' them
when they're no thinking, and they'll just bite at onything."

" My wife would like some of your trout, Adam, for
to-morrow," the minister said ; " and talking of that,
Stormont, there's some nonsense going on in the evening
among the young folk ; no doubt they will be glad to
see you."

3io IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" I'm afraid," cried Philip across the rush of the river
and amid the patter of the rain, " that I have an engage-
ment."

" Well, well," said the minister, good-humouredly
nodding at him from under his umbrella as he went on,
" just as you please — just as you please."

This was all that passed ; and it was not a thing that
could be called an invitation, as Mrs. Seton said after-
wards. " No, no ; not an invitation : just one gentleman
to another, which is as different as possible. We'll be glad
to see you, or my wife will be glad to see you ; just the kind
of thing that Robert says to everybody, for he's far too
free."

But it disturbed Philip in his fishing more than he could
have imagined possible. It came into his mind in the
morning as soon as he woke, it accompanied him in his
thoughts all day.

" There is some dancing or nonsense going on at the
manse, I hear — or was it last night ? " said Mrs. Stormont
at dinner, secure in the confidence that no invitation had
come for her son. " I am very thankful that they have
seen the uselessness of it, and given up asking you,
Philip."

" Oh ! I can go if I like," Philip said.
" But you have too much sense to mix yourself up with
their village parties," said his mother.

To this Philip made no reply. His pride was touched
at once by the suggestion that he was not asked, and by the
idea that his good sense had to be appealed to. This is
always an offensive idea. He did not go up to the drawing-
room after dinner. In spite of himself, the contrast between
the dull warmth of the fireside where his mother sat with her
book and her knitting, and the lively scene on the other
side of the water, struck him more and more forcibly.
Mothers are all very well in their way, but they pall upon
the sense of young men. He went out to the door, and
the fresh, damp night air, at it flew in his face, seemed
to carry upon it a far-off sound of the music. To be
sure, this was impossible, but it mattered little to Philip ;
he heard it all the same, he knew the very waltz which at
that moment Mrs. Seton would be playing. What need
to follow all the steps of the short and half-hearted

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 311

Struggle ? They were in full career of gaiety in the manse
drawing-room, when Philip strayed in, half-afraid of the
reception he might receive.

" Oh ! Mr. Philip, is this you ? You are just a great
stranger," cried Mrs. Seton. " But there is Alice Bairns-
faither not dancing ; you are just come in time."

CHAPTER XLV

THE days were very long in Murkley that winter. It was
not a brisk, frosty winter, with ice and skating and curling,
and all the cheerful activities with which the strong and
young set winter at defiance. Everything of the kind, every
attempt at pleasure out of doors, melted away in the rain.
The roads were deep in mud, the fields were sodden, the
river almost in flood, the skies so laden and so low that you
could almost have touched them with your hand — so, at
least, the country folk in their bold phraseology, described
them. Jean's table-cover was almost done. She was
able to sit at it, she said, as she never had been before.
There was little variety in the life of the ladies at Murkley.
There had never been much variety in their life ; though,
now that Lilias was acknowledged to be " out," it might
have been supposed that their engagements would have
increased. But this was not the case. Lilias had signalized
herself by closing two houses in the country upon them at
once. Murray was a name which was not now pronounced
before the Countess, who was gayer than usual, and gave
several parties, as Margaret firmly believed, for the sole
purpose of making it appear that the sisters were shut out.

" But I never blame her, poor woman ; for no doubt
it was a great mortification," Margaret said, -with proud
triumph.

And the break with Mrs. Stormont had never been healed.
Philip indeed had returned to his old friendliness, as he
had returned to other bonds, but his mother stood out.
Thus they were shut up a little" more than usual to their
own resources, and Lilias, if she had taken advantage of
her opportunities, ought to have known all about the

312 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

Thirty Years' War. It was a long, long time before any reply
came to their letters, and, when it arrived, it was not
satisfactory. Lewis had been travelling with his chief.
He was so engaged to his chief that he could not get free
to answer in person, as he would have wished. He
answered Margaret by the intimation that, in case he should
die in the meantime, he had left everything by will to
Lilias, which was an arrangement which could not be
found fault with, though he hoped to find some other
immediate solution when he came home. Even his letter
to Jean was subdued and sad in tone. He seemed unable
to believe that she was right in the confidence of her hopes ;
he thought his good-fortune had forsaken him, and that
it was contempt, not tenderness, which had made Lilias
tear up his offering. " She would not take even her right
from my hands." Miss Jean wept much over this epistle.
She avowed that she ought to have understood the per-
versity of man.

" When you think it is all just plain and easy, and
nothing to do but to enter upon your happiness, it is j ust
then that they will turn the wrong way," she said. They
were all somewhat humiliated by the non-success of the
overtures, which they had expected to be received with
enthusiasm. Lilias, who did not know all, felt the dis-
couragement fall back upon her with a sudden sense of
failure and shame, which gave an altogether new aspect
to life. It seemed to her that she had been offered and
rejected ; her pride sprang to arms, and all the force of her
nature rallied in self-defence. When Margaret addressed
her little conclave on the subject, Lilias, with fire in her
eyes, would scarcely hear her speak.

"It is possible," Margaret said, " that there is some
mistake in the whole matter. We, perhaps, did not under-
stand him at the first, and perhaps we may not understand
him now.'-'

" What does it matter ? " cried Lilias, with passion.
" Who is it you are wanting to understand ? Oh ! will
you just forget about it, and never let us say a word on
the subject any more ! "

" This was what I was going to say," said Margaret,
firmly. " It may very well be that a mistake has been
made ; but it's not for our dignity or for our peace of

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 313

mind to dwell upon that. We will just consider this a
closed chapter, Lilias. There has no harm been done.
The young man meant well, it was in his mind to do justice.
He had my approval, as ye all know. And no doubt but
it was a great effort. For a man to give up all his living
and everything he has, is never a small matter. You will
mind that even the young man that our Lord loved had
not the strength of mind to do that. It is just an extra-
ordinary thing to the credit of the lad that he did find it
in his heart to do it. But when his sacrifice was thrown
back upon him, which was what Lilias in a manner forced

upon me to do "

" I am glad I did that ! I am glad— glad I did it,"
Lilias cried.

" Well — I am saying nothing against that. When he
has got it thrown back into his bosom, he very likely
thinks he has done all, and more than ought to be required,
and there's just an end of it. I have not a word to say
concerning Mr. Grantley. He has done all — and more —
that honour could require. But now we're done with
him, and that chapter closed."

" Oh ! Margaret, bide a little," cried Jean. " Oh !
Lilias, listen to your own heart ; is there nothing there
that speaks for him ? He is under engagements : he
cannot just hurry away, and leave his duty. Give him a
little time, and let him speak for himself."

" I agree with Margaret," said Lilias, hotly. "It is
Margaret that is right. There has been too much about
it — too much ! and now that chapter is closed."

"It is for the best that it should be so," Margaret
said.

" Oh ! Margaret, you were always hard upon him !
What have you ever done but discourage him and put him
away ? And now will this be for ever — will you just reject
him without a hearing ? " Jean cried. Margaret gave her
a look in which there was at once judgment and warning.

" There is no hearing," said Margaret, " there is nothing
but just to put him out of our lives and all the thoughts he
has raised. That chapter is closed," she said, with great
dignity and gravity. It was a decision against which no
further protest could be made.

And indeed there was a long time in which this seemed

3i4 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

a final decision. That chapter was to all appearance closed.
Even Jean, hard though she found it, was obliged to hold-in
all demonstrations of sympathy, to leave Lilias to herself.
And Margaret, putting real force upon her inclinations,
such as no one appreciated, left her to herself. Jean was
coerced by her elder sister, and obeyed with a mute
protest, with tearful, appealing looks, with a continual
lifting up of her testimony to earth and heaven, against the
fate which she could not resist. But Margaret had no one
to coerce her, no one to protest against. She was her own
tyrant, more hard to herself than to Jean. She resisted
the impulse to take her little sister into her bosom, to soothe
and caress her, to weep over her, to open up to her all the
secret hoards of her own love and tenderness. Margaret,
whom they all thought so severe, so contemptuous of
sentimentality, had too much reverence for the child of her
adoration to intrude into her little sanctuary of pain,
and innocent shame, and wounded affection. It was better
for Lilias that no eye should penetrate into that refuge —
her mother-sister heroically shut the door, and stood
longing, wistful, without. In the meanwhile the house-
hold, for no one out of the household knew anything of the
matter, was very hard upon Margaret. Old Simon
declared to the cook that the pride of her was just more
than any person could put up with.

" She'll see that bairn buried afore her een, or she let
her wed the lad she likes," Simon said.

" And wha is the lad she likes ? " the maids asked in
chorus, all but Susan, who held her tongue, and looked all
the knowledge she possessed. Upon which old Simon
bid them go all to their work for a set of idle taupies that
had no eyes in their heads.

" But I'll never forgive Miss Margaret, if harm comes of
it ; and what but harm can come of it ? " the oracle of
the kitchen said.

The wet winter was succeeded by a wistful and doubtful
spring, and then by summer gay as northern summers
sometimes are, with long days, all monotonous and
feelingless, such as oppress the heart. If the year had
been specially arranged to look longer than ever year
looked before, it could not have been more successfully done.
It lingered and dragged along, never gracious nor genial,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 315

a tedious, unfruitful year. And the same change which
had come over the seasons, seemed to have come over the
life of Murkley. There were no longer the little varieties of
old ; just as the winter's frost, and brisk March winds,
and the caprices of April, and the disappointments of May
were all lost in one fretful dulness, so the little impatiences
and mock quarrels, the little routine of work and play,
the little entertainments and hopes of the past, all seemed
to have dropped into one settled rule, rigid and immovable,
in which no relaxation or variety was. What she did one
day, Lilias did the next, unwavering, shutting herself up
within herself. She could not have borne it, had she said
a word. The sense of having come to nothing, the defeat
and failure of her whole independent existence, cut short
and ended off, overwhelmed her both with trouble and
shame. That any man could have it in his power to turn
all her brightness and hopes, all her youthful gaiety and
adventure, her delightful beginning, her innocent triumph,
into a mere episode suddenly broken off, having no connec-
tion with the rest of her life, was a thing intolerable to
her ; nor could she endure to think that whatever happened
to her in the future must be like a second life, another
beginning ; rather, much rather, she would have had
nothing happen to her at all, but relapse into the dimness
for ever. This indeed was what Lilias thought she had
done. But yet now and then a sudden gale of expectation,
a stirring of life, would breathe over her — as if all were
not ended, as if something must still be coming. There
were days in which she felt sure that something would
certainly come : after which she would rise up and slay
herself in shame and indignation, asking herself if she could
be so poor a creature as still to wish him to return. But
all this passed in silence ; and the shame of those relent-
ings, of those renewed disappointments, of those involun-
tary hopes and awakenings, were to herself alone. Thus
the year went on. It had passed the meridian, and the
long evenings were beginning to " creep in " a. little,
soothing somewhat the spirits wearied with this greyness of
living. It was a good thing, whatever happened, to be rid
of those endless days. Nothing so beautiful when the
heart is light, or even moderately tranquil and at ease,
but, in suspense or waiting, they were intolerable. Lilias

316 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

told herself that she was not in suspense any longer, that
there was nothing to wait for ; but still she was glad when the
long days were over, when autumn began to whiten the
fields, and a little fire to glimmer in the dark wainscoted
rooms. By the end of August that was natural in Murkley.
The house in the evening looked more cheerful with the
glow of the ruddy fire, and when sometimes, with a sudden
perverse fit, she would steal out in the twilight after dinner,
the lights gleaming in all the windows gave her a certain
pleasure to see. They looked warm, and the world so
cold ; they were bright, and it was so dim. What did
she know about the world, this nursling of love and tender-
ness ? Nothing at all : only that her first venture in it
had turned, as it seemed, into bitterness, and it was the
privilege of her youth to generalize, and to adopt as her
own experience the conclusions of world-worn men.

She had. done this one evening early in September ; the
year had run round, and all her anniversaries were over :
the time of his sacrifice, the time when she had given it
back to him, the woeful day of his departure, all were past.
It ought to be all over, she said to herself bitterly ; what
a servile thing it was to dwell upon every incident in this
way, to keep thinking of them when it was clear he thought
of them no more. Lilias began to take herself to task.
She had taken a plaid from the hall and flung it round
her ; the evening was closing, the road through the park
towards New Murkley was entirely deserted, no step but
her own upon it, no fear of interruption. She began to
say to herself as she went along that all this was unworthy ;
that, since the first chapter of her life had been broken off,
she must let it break, and begin again ; that it was like
a slave to cling to the past, to bind herself to a recollection,
to let all her life fade into a shadow. As she came in
sight of the old visionary palace, with its vacant windows
staring into the twilight, there came into her head the bitter
fancy of associating herself with it. It was an emblem of her
existence, she said to herself — unfinished : all ambitiously
framed for life, life on a grand and beautiful scale ; but
never to be lived in, an empty memorial of what might have
been, a house for dreams and nothing else, a place where
never fire would be lighted, nor any sweet tumult of living
arise. Oh ! it was like her, her great deserted palace,

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 317

her strong- built emptiness. Lilias stood and gazed at it,
rising majestic against the grey ness of the sky, her eyes
flooding with tears, a poignant and sudden pang in her
heart. Could any resemblance be more close ? This old
house was her fortune, all she had in the world ; and
she was like it. There was a mockery in it, yet sympathy ;
a vacant place, where no shelter was, a vacant life, in
which there never would be any warmth of human interest.
The greyness of everything about, the shadow-trees softly
waving in the night wind, and faint clouds scarcely rounding
against the cloudless sky, the mass of building all still
and vacant, everything combined to enhance the effect.
The two lakes of silent passion in her eyes blurred every-
thing, and made that effect still greater. The old house
in the distance, with its glimmers of ruddy light in all the
windows, had nothing in it so congenial with her mood.
Her castle was like herself, empty and cold, an abode of
dreams and nothing more.

Nevertheless, it gave Lilias a little thrill of alarm to see
something move upon the broad steps, all overgrown with
weeds and grass, that led to the never-opened door.
Though she had been in her own consciousness but now
so tragic a figure surveying the tragic desolation of her great
house, yet she was in reality only a girl under twenty, in
the grey evening, almost dark, out of hearing of any
protector, and out of sight of her home. Some one moved
upon the steps, and came slowly down and towards her.
She was too proud to turn round and fly, but this had been
her first thought. If it should turn out a neighbour, all
was well ; but if it should be a stranger, a vagrant, a
wandering tramp, perhaps! Half for. pride and half for
fright, Lilias could not turn her back upon this unknown ;
but she stood and waited to see who it was, holding up her
dress with her hands, ready for instant flight.

He came slowly forward through the dusk ; her heart
beat with alarm, with wonder, with displeasure, for no
stranger had any right to be here so late. But no suspicion
of the reality touched her mind. Many times she had
expected vainly, and often, often felt that round the next
corner, at the next turning, he might come. But this
expectation was far from her mind to-night, nor was there
light enough to see him as he came nearer and nearer.

318 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

He stopped when they were within a few paces of each
other.

" You are afraid of me, but I am no stranger. Ah !
you do not know me ? " he said.

Then there rang through the silent woods and the grey
night a wonderful cry. Lilias was not mistress of herself ;
the whole world went round and round with her, the great
house behind him seemed to move, to break into unequal
outlines, to crash together and fall. Her voice sounded
like something independent of her, a wild creature crying
out in the night. She threw out her hands wildly to grasp
at something, she did not know what, to hold by and sus-
tain herself. There was nothing near her except him. He
was trembling too. He took her hand into his without
any presumption or mistake of her meaning.

" I have frightened you," he said. " It is to do more
harm, always more harm, that I come. But lean upon
me, you know that I mean no evil — it is not to take any
advantage."

Lilias did not hear what Lewis said. She heard his voice,
that was enough. She discovered that it was he with a
revulsion of feeling which there was nothing in her to
withstand.

" Oh ! where have you been so long — so long ? and me
that wanted you so ! " she cried.

POSTSCRIPT
(Which is scarcely necessary)

INSIDE the lighted windows which threw so cheerful a
gleam upon the soft darkness of the night outside, Margaret
and Jean were seated, with their heads very close together,
bending over a letter. They were reading it both together,
with great agitation and excitement. The faces of both
were flushed and eager ; there was a controversy going
on between them. Nothing more peaceful than this
interior, the little fire burning brightly, the lamp on the
table, the wainscot reflecting the leap and sparkle of the
burning wood, but nothing more agitated than the little

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 319

group, the faces so like each other, so close together,
lighted up with all the fire and passion of civil war.

" She is beginning to forget him," Margaret said. " I
will send him his answer to-night, and she need never
know. Why should the little thing be disturbed again ?
She has had a terrible year, but it is all over, all over
now."

" All over now he has come. In no other way will it
ever be over."

" Oh ! hold your peace with your romance, Jean. It
was always sore, sore against my will to entertain the
thought of him — and now that she has got over it "

" She will never get over it," said Miss Jean. " Oh,
Margaret, have ye no mercy in you ? Will you let her
heart break just for a prejudice, just for "

" Do you call it a prejudice that the man should be a
gentleman, that his father before him should have been
a gentleman ? "

" I care nothing for his father before him," exclaimed
Jean, with the energy of passion. " He is as true a gentle-
man as ever stepped. I call it just a prejudice "

" Hold you peace, Jean. Break her heart ! when I
tell you she is mending, mending day by day. Her peace
shall not be disturbed again. I will write to him that it
is too late. He is gentleman enough for that, I allow ;
that he will go away, that he will do nothing disloyal to
me "

" Would you have him disloyal to her ? " Miss Jean
cried. " No, Margaret ! I have done your bidding
many a day, but I will not now. If you write and bid him
go, I will write and bid him stay. He will judge for himself
which of us knows best."

Margaret rose to her feet with an indignant gesture.

" Will you defy me — me, your own sister ? " she said.

" Oh ! Margaret, do not break my heart ! — but I will
defy all the world for Lilias,1'- cried Miss Jean. " She is
more than my sister, she is my bairn ; and yours too —
and yours too ! "

sob

her heart ? "

320 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

" There is no question of breaking hearts," said Mar-
garet, hurriedly controlling herself, and taking up the
letter ; " but, Jean, for God's sake, not a word, for here
is Lilias at the door."

Neither of them remembered, in the excitement of the
moment, that the sight of them standing up to receive her,
with the traces of their struggle in their looks, must have
shown Lilias, had there been no other indication, that
something extraordinary had happened. But that
mattered little, as the reader knows. Lilias came in
smiling, her eyes dazzled with the lights, her fair locks
jewelled with the dews. She kept Lewis behind her with
her hand.

" I have brought somebody to see you, Margaret and
Jean," she said.

Margaret let the letter fall from her hand. It was the
final throwing down of her arms before triumphant Love
and Fate.

THE END

Printed at The Chapel River Press, Kingston, Surrey.

PR Oliphant, Margaret Oliphant

5113 (Wilson)

18 It was a lover and his lass

19—

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